


Give Me Your Fate

by asroarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Drug Addiction, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, POV Bellamy, Slow Burn, senator!bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2019-08-07 14:37:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 81,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16410320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asroarke/pseuds/asroarke
Summary: Not a blonde hair out of place, her suit perfectly tailored, the kind of person he was used to seeing around Washington. Bellamy glanced over at Marcus, catching the smirk on his lips as he watched this girl. She must be why they were here. “Who is this girl?” Bellamy asked, leaning in toward Kane.“Your best bet at a career in the Senate,” Kane whispered back.Political AU where Bellamy Blake is willing to do whatever it takes to get reelected, even pursuing an arranged marriage to a complete stranger.Best Arranged Marriage and Best Angst Work in Progress in the 2018 Bellarke Fanwork Awards





	1. Best Bet

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in the back of my head for months now and finally got around to writing it. I've been real anxious about it, so I hope you guys like it. The rating is for the second half of the fic where things start to pick up. 
> 
> (also, this whole thing is set in an AU where American politics aren't the prequel to a dystopian YA novel that they are now. so, we'll all have to use our imaginations when we see these characters acting reasonable and compromising with each other, cool? cool.)

Bellamy wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, not after McCreary’s temper tantrum on the Senate floor. Luckily, the reporters didn’t give a damn about Bellamy. After all, he was some junior senator who lucked into his position and likely wouldn’t serve more than a term. So, Bellamy brushed past them on the way to his office, snickering to himself as the cameras cornered Roan.

He opened the door to his office, relaxing as soon as it shut behind him and the commotion from the hallway dulled. “Senator Blake,” Maya called out from her desk. “Marcus Kane is here to see you.”

Bellamy blinked a few times. “The Marcus Kane?” he asked. “Former campaign manager to President Jaha?”

“He’s waiting in your office,” Maya replied, though she looked as nervous as Bellamy felt. There was no logical reason for Kane to want to see him. Bellamy wasn’t even from his party. And it wasn’t like Kane was a player in Washington anymore. He took off as soon as Jaha was sworn in.

Bellamy straightened his tie and checked his hair in the mirror. He took a deep breath before opening the door and Kane stood when he entered the room. The only noticeable difference from when he was last seen on the news was his new beard and longer hair. “Marcus Kane, it is an honor to meet you,” Bellamy announced, reaching out his hand.

“The honor is mine, Senator Blake,” he replied, gripping his hand as they greeted each other. The two men stared at each other for a moment, and Bellamy then gestured for him to sit. “I realize I did not schedule a meeting with you.”

“I was surprised when my assistant told me you were here,” Bellamy said as he sat at his desk. He had been in this office for a year, yet the whole room still felt stale. He had one photo on his desk, and it was a childhood photo of him and Octavia. It faced away from Bellamy, so visitors could see it and he didn’t have to.

“I’m here to ask what your strategy is for reelection,” he said, crossing his legs and quirking up an eyebrow. “It’s only five years away, and from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it will be successful.”

“There is a bill I am—”

“Let me stop you,” he smirked. “You will spend years trying to get anyone to pay attention to that. The Republicans will have an easy time beating you in the reelection. And you will leave here having accomplished nothing.” Bellamy bit down on his tongue to keep from snapping at this man. He knew Kane was right. He was voicing all Bellamy’s worst anxieties. “Which is a shame, because you are a fascinating person.”

“Excuse me?”

“Military background. Liberal senator from a conservative state. An incredible personal narrative where you raised your sister after your mother died. Given that you do something with your time in the Senate, your name could even be on a presidential ballot one day,” he explained. “Your obstacle is the fact that everyone here knows you were only elected because of the allegations of sexual misconduct against your opponent last year. You can’t make headway on anything when every other senator is counting down the years until you lose your reelection. And no one outside the Senate even knows who you are.”

Bellamy leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at Kane. “Why are you here?” he asked. Everyone in this town knew Marcus Kane, knew what he was capable of. This was the man that made Jake Griffin into what he was… one of the most beloved presidential candidates in history before his tragic death. And four years later, he made Griffin’s running mate, Thelonious Jaha, president. This was a man who could have any candidate, and for some reason, he was sitting in Bellamy Blake’s office.

“Because I figured out how to help you. Why else would I be here?” he smirked, but Bellamy stared him down, waiting for the real answer. “And I am tired of retirement.”

“Surely there is someone from your own party you would like to work with.”

“Well, Cage Wallace is still an option,” Kane shrugged. “But it’s an easy option.” The son of Vice President Wallace would be an easy choice. He was the posterchild for the party, had access to the White House already, and made for one hell of a legacy story. “I left because I was tired of easy elections.”

Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows at that, but Kane had a point. Jaha’s election wasn’t close, not even a little. But that wasn’t because Jaha was a popular choice. No one really wanted him. He was just a consolation prize when the party lost Jake Griffin four years earlier. But Jaha carried the base support through the primaries and the general election. Getting moderates and independents on his side was another story. For most of the election, it must have been a challenge for someone like Marcus Kane.

And then, it stopped being a challenge when the people’s hearts went out to Jaha after his son died. Bellamy even voted for the man. The public was bombarded by images of him and his son’s fiancée grieving. Every newspaper had it on the front page. Every station showed the footage of Jaha breaking down in an embrace with Wells Jaha’s fiancée. The country’s heart broke for him, and as cynical as it is to admit, that’s what got him into office so easily.

“I think you should hire me, Senator Blake. Unless you want to go back to a city council position out in the middle of nowhere,” Kane announced before pushing himself up and walking toward the door.

He didn’t even have his hand on the doorknob before Bellamy called out to him.

 

* * *

 

Saying yes was the easiest decision he made since he got to Washington.

The plan was for Bellamy to come off more moderate, the kind of candidate that could steal from the conservative base while still retaining the liberal vote. It meant too many meetings with Senator Kingsley and an unholy alliance with Diyoza that Bellamy had a hard time stomaching. After months, it was nowhere near enough… but it was a start.

Meanwhile, Kane’s team was tackling Bellamy’s image. “Your voters find family values to be important when picking who to vote for,” Raven Reyes explained as she flipped through a folder. “On one hand, the story about everything you did for your sister helps you. But, it’s kind of useless when your sister is too much of a loose canon for us to ever use her.”

He gritted his teeth as he leaned back in his seat. There was nothing he could do about Octavia. It wasn’t like she was even speaking to him at the moment. “So, what is the solution?” Bellamy asked. If he learned anything in the past few months with this team, there was always a solution.

“You get a family before your reelection,” Murphy mumbled, looking bored as he flipped through papers at the end of the table. He said it as if it were the easiest thing to do. As if Bellamy could just obtain a wife out of nowhere.

Bellamy looked up at Raven with wide eyes, asking if this was for real. “He’s not wrong,” she huffed before placing three folders in front of him. He eyed her carefully as he reached for the first one. Inside was information on some girl named Roma Bragg. He snapped the folder shut before peeking into the one beside it. This one was on a blonde named Bree.

“What is this?” Bellamy snapped.

“The politician version of Tinder,” Murphy snorted.

“You are currently single, which wouldn’t be a problem if you were a normal citizen. But you are an elected official. The longer you go unmarried, the more questions your constituents have about your personal life. And this fixes the family values problem. So, pick one,” Raven explained. Bellamy could see the point. He had seen wild rumors spread around Washington about Roan Kingsley, about how he spends his free time and who he spends time with. No one would wonder if they could place him with a pretty wife, two kids, and a dog. Though, the casualness with which she told him to pick one scared him. This wasn’t picking a tie to wear or a restaurant for dinner. This was deciding on a wife.

“People don’t like politicians they can’t place,” Kane joined in as he shut the door behind him. “And Bellamy, you have an interview for MSNBC tonight. Murphy is putting together your statement now.” Before Bellamy could grab the final folder, Kane snatched it up and flipped through it. “Reyes, who even is this?” He snatched Roma’s folder from Bellamy’s hand and made an annoyed face as he flipped through it. “How are any of these women assets?”

“All three were Ivy League educated but from small towns. All moderate conservatives who the public would adore but wouldn’t upstage Bellamy,” Raven explained before Marcus Kane put his hand up.

“Monty, get in here,” he called out, and within seconds, Monty was jogging in with his laptop in hand. “Murphy, Monty, explain to Miss Reyes here what is wrong with her choices.” Bellamy slid down in his seat while Kane handed the files to Monty and Murphy.

“Aside from the fact that there’s no way Blake here could put up with a former beauty queen for his entire life?” Murphy snorted, and Bellamy shot him a glare.

Kane tapped his fingers on the table, keeping his eyes on Monty who was looking over the papers in the folder. “Long term, Monty.”

“There is nothing wrong with her,” Monty huffed, throwing the file back onto the table. “The cameras would love her, she is a literal school teacher, there isn’t any dirt out there on her that we could find…”

“And I have no idea who the hell she is,” Kane announced.

“Does that matter?” Bellamy asked, though he had a feeling this was a stupid question. At least if he asked it, Kane wouldn’t snap at him like he would at his own team.

“Right now, no. In the future, yes. All these are options that work, but they don’t give you anything. No connections, no political alliances, just someone to stand next to you during campaign speeches… and anyone could do that much,” Kane explained.

“What are you saying?” Bellamy sighed, brushing his hair out of his face. Raven let out a groan, frustrated with Kane and how was lecturing them all. It had been a long day and they all just wanted to go home and go to sleep.

“He’s about to hit us with the Abigail Walters speech, that’s what he’s saying,” Murphy muttered, kicking his feet up onto the table. That name sounded familiar, though Bellamy couldn’t tell from where. “Am I right?” Murphy snorted when Marcus glared at him. Monty stepped quietly across the room, plopping down beside Bellamy.

“Uh, Abigail Walters married Jake Griffin before he became governor,” Monty explained to Bellamy. “Kane always makes the point that the smartest thing Governor Griffin ever did was marry her.”

“At least one of you listens to me,” Kane huffed. “The reason it was such a smart move is because nothing happens in the Republican party without support from the Walters family. They are one of the wealthiest families in this country and might as well own the party Jake was running in. Marrying her gave him access to all the campaign funding he could ever need on top of giving him every political contact he could want. Abby Griffin was who introduced him to me, the man who actually made him governor and would have made him president.” Raven groaned as she took the three folders back, gritting her teeth as Kane spoke.

Bellamy still wasn’t sold on this plan, but he had to admit they were making a lot of sense. There weren’t a lot of politicians out there who didn’t have a family to roll out in front of the cameras, which made Bellamy stand out in a bad way. People didn’t like politicians they couldn’t place. And a bachelor Bellamy Blake whose only family had left town and left no way for him to find her wasn’t someone the public could place.

“Don’t you think I looked for someone with connections like that? It’s not like there are dozens of Abby Griffins out there. If you can do better, have at it,” Raven snapped at Kane.

Marcus Kane froze, his brows furrowed as he stared down at the table. “Kane?” Murphy asked, setting his feet back down on the ground as he leaned forward. But Kane didn’t say a word. He was thinking, though he normally did his thinking out loud.

After a minute of pure silence with Monty, Raven, Murphy, and Bellamy watching him, Kane’s head snapped up. “Good luck on your interview tonight,” he said to Bellamy before powerwalking out of the room. Raven and Monty trailed behind him, both flooding him with questions as the door shut behind him.

“Where is he going?” Bellamy groaned.

“To find you a wife,” Murphy teased. “Now, let’s go through the prep questions.”

 

* * *

 

Bellamy checked over the text Kane sent him, confirming he had come to the right courthouse. But he was indeed in the right place, meaning Kane was running late. It was a smaller courthouse just outside Washington, which meant it was not likely that people would recognize Bellamy. He’d feel a bit more comfortable if he knew why he was there, though. If a reporter spotted him and asked why he was there, he’d have no actual answer except that Marcus Kane told him to be here.

When he saw Kane jogging up the steps, he let out a sigh of relief. “Traffic,” Kane huffed as he made it up the last steps. “Come on, we’re already late.”

“Late for what?” Bellamy grumbled as he followed after him. But Kane didn’t answer. Instead, he led him down the hall before taking him into a courtroom during a trial. They shuffled into the back row, trying not to disrupt the proceedings. “What is going on?” Bellamy whispered.

“A trial, shh,” he replied, not answering why the hell they were there. So, Bellamy settled into his seat, trying to catch up on what this case even was. It took him a few minutes to figure out it was a murder case, and he started to piece together what happened. The man on the stand witnessed the defendant with the type of pills used to murder the victim. But none of that answered why Bellamy was dragged here when he had a full plate today.

When the prosecutor finished questioning the witness, the defense attorney stood up. She looked familiar, though he couldn’t quite place her. She was young, far younger than the prosecutor, yet walked up to the witness in her obscenely high heels as if she owned the room. Far too confident for someone who was up against what Bellamy thought was a sound case.

“Mr. Carter, can you describe the moment when you spotted those pills on my client’s desk?” she asked. She kept her hands held behind her back as she paced toward him, and he couldn’t help but notice how perfectly manicured her nails were… or how put together she seemed in general. Not a blonde hair out of place, her suit perfectly tailored, the kind of person he was used to seeing around Washington. Bellamy glanced over at Marcus, catching the smirk on his lips as he watched this girl. She must be why they were here.

“It was in the afternoon. I had gotten back from lunch with a stain on my shirt, and I recalled that Darrell kept those stain remover wipes in his desk,” the witness explained. “I stopped to ask for one, and that’s when I saw the bottle of pills on his desk.”

“What color were they?” she asked.

“Objection. He has already answered this question,” the prosecutor snapped.

“Let me be more specific. What shade of blue were they?” she asked, clearly fighting back an eye roll.

“Who is this girl?” Bellamy asked, leaning in toward Kane.

“Your best bet at a career in the Senate,” Kane whispered back. Bellamy sat back in his seat, giving this girl a once over. She wasn’t exactly what Bellamy had pictured for himself, or even for the kind of person he thought Kane would pick out for him. Raven was looking for school teachers and nurses… a far cry from a defense attorney. She must have some political connections, otherwise Kane wouldn’t suggest her.

“Objection. Relevance,” the prosecutor interrupted again.

“Your Honor, it is a basic color question. If the prosecution is so worried about their witness handling a question a kindergartener could answer, perhaps they should have prepped him better,” she smirked. Bellamy stifled a chuckle, earning an elbow to the side from Kane.

“Miss Griffin,” the judge snapped, and Bellamy’s eyes went wide. He glanced over at Kane, about to ask if that name was somehow a coincidence. But knowing what he did about Marcus Kane… it couldn’t be a coincidence.

“My apologies,” she replied in a sweet tone, one that almost made him forget she just openly mocked the prosecution. “Now, Mr. Carter…”

“Her name is Clarke Griffin,” Kane whispered to Bellamy. “Jake Griffin’s daughter and Wells Jaha’s former fiancée. Top of her class at Harvard Law, a spotless record, wealthier than all your current donors combined, and already knows how to play the part of a politician’s wife.”

“And aligned with the other party,” Bellamy reminded.

“Which helps you,” Kane huffed.

“I would like to illustrate to the jury what color you saw,” Clarke explained before turning out to face the jury. “Would you say the pills you saw were the same shade of light blue as District Attorney Reynolds’ shirt?”

Bellamy snapped his mouth shut when he glanced over at the prosecution, seeing the shirt in question wasn’t blue at all. It was light yellow. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before glancing at Marcus, who still had a smirk on his face. “Yes,” the witness answered, which was promptly followed by muffled whispers and gasps in the courtroom.

“Objection—”

“Mr. Carter, are you colorblind?” Clarke asked.

The witness shuffled his eyes back and forth, clearly struggling to answer. “Mr. Carter, answer the question,” the judge commanded.

“Yes,” he admitted, ducking his head as Clarke tapped her fingers on the stand.

“Then, how are you so sure the pills on my client’s desk weren’t his heart medication? Or basic aspirin?” she asked.

The witness remained silent, staring at Clarke with wide, panicked eyes. “I’m not,” he muttered finally.

“No further questions,” Clarke smirked, quirking an eyebrow at the seething prosecutor as she strolled back to her bench. Then, her eyes caught them in the back, lingering on Kane for half a second. Bellamy barely caught Clarke’s confusion at seeing him before she sat down.

“What do you think?” Kane whispered once the proceedings continued.

“I think this isn’t realistic,” Bellamy muttered. Sure, Kane knew this girl because he worked for her father, but that didn’t mean he could talk Clarke into this. She didn’t have anything to gain by tying herself to a senator from an opposing party. “Her family would never let her agree to this.”

“It’s not their decision. I know her. She might go for this.”

“And tell me why exactly it needs to be her?”

“Because right now, you’re just an outsider. She’s not just some insider… she plays the game better than most. Not to mention that if you are married to Jake Griffin’s daughter, you start looking like a real politician and not some kid that lucked into one term.”

 

* * *

 

“On top of all the obvious logistical problems, there is the fact that she and I have nothing in common,” Bellamy explained. He and Kane were sitting out on a bench outside the courthouse, killing time until Clarke finished up with her client. “I was raised in a backwoods town by a single mother while Clarke grew up in the governor’s mansion.”

“Don’t write her off as a privileged brat just yet,” Kane warned. “And that chip on your shoulder doesn’t look good on you.”

“This isn’t just picking out a new employee. This is someone I will be stuck with. I have to like her,” Bellamy sighed. “I don’t see how this is even an option.”

“Marcus,” he heard Clarke call out before spotting her by the door. Her face lit up when she saw Kane moving toward her. She met him halfway for a hug, practically giggling from excitement. “What are you doing back here?”

“Got bored,” Kane joked, and Clarke rolled her eyes as he led her back to where Bellamy was sitting. “How is your mom?”

The smile on Clarke’s lips dimmed just a little, though it was hardly noticeable. “She’s doing fine,” she replied. “Anyway, how long are you here for?”

“As long as I can keep this guy in office,” Kane smirked, nodding toward Bellamy.

He stood up, holding his hand out to shake her hand. “Bellamy Blake,” he introduced himself, and she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“Clarke Griffin,” she replied before her eyes flickered back to Kane.

“He’s a senator from Tennessee,” Kane filled in the gaps, and something hardened in Clarke’s eyes as she stared at Kane. “You ready to come home, Clarke?”

“Did my grandfather send you?” she asked him, her jaw setting. Bellamy’s eyes flickered between the two of them, frustrated because Kane clearly didn’t tell him everything he needed to know. “I told him I would never—”

“If your grandfather sent me, I’d have shown up with a Republican, likely Cage Wallace,” Kane interrupted her. Clarke’s eyes softened before she looked over at Bellamy again, this time paying a bit more attention to him. He could feel her sizing him up, a look he was all too familiar with in Washington. “Senator Blake here, while an excellent politician, is going to struggle in a few years in his reelection campaign. A liberal running in a conservative state is always a challenge, which is why we need your help.”

“I’m sure an endorsement coming from a Griffin would be quite helpful in a state my father carried,” Clarke said, now looking back at Kane. Bellamy locked eyes with Kane for a moment before he looked back at Clarke. “But you’re not here for an endorsement, are you?”

“Not exactly,” Kane replied.

Clarke glanced back at Bellamy again, her jaw a bit tense. “It was lovely to meet you, Senator Blake,” she said with a smile. “And I will give my mother your regards,” she told Kane before turning to walk away.

“Clarke,” Kane said sternly.

“The answer is no,” she called out as she walked back toward the courthouse, her heels clacking against the concrete.

“I told you,” Bellamy muttered, but Kane was already on his phone again, typing something.

“That’s not her final answer,” he smirked. “Now, let’s get back to work.” He patted Bellamy on the back as they made their way out into the parking lot. Kane took a call as he walked off to his car, and Bellamy found himself wondering if he’d rather marry the school teacher or the nurse. Kane would probably pick her out anyway, so it didn’t really matter what Bellamy preferred.

He beat Kane back to his office, and most of Kane’s team was out to lunch. “Senator Blake,” Maya said once he set his bag down. “You have a call waiting for you in your office.”

Bellamy loosened his tie as he walked into his office. He tugged off his jacket before plopping down in his seat. He’d definitely need another coffee before his afternoon session. “Hello,” he answered the call, bracing his arms on his desk.

“Are you familiar with a diner called Grounders?” a voice he recognized as Clarke’s asked.

“Miss Griffin?” he stuttered out, sitting up a bit straighter.

“If not, I can send you the address,” she continued. “I am going to be there tonight around 10. Reporters don’t show up there. Doubt anyone would recognize you, so don’t worry about that.”

Bellamy tapped on his desk, furrowing his brows in confusion. “I know where Grounders is,” he finally said.

“Good. Don’t bring Marcus. I already know his answers to my questions. I want yours,” she said before hanging up.


	2. Would Have Been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! Thanks for all the excitement for the first chapter! I'm real excited/nervous about this fic, so the feedback is really appreciated.

No amount of time could have prepared him for his meeting with Clarke Griffin. Bellamy had read everything he could find on her, yet nothing explained the call.

Her story was how he remembered it: private school kid raised in the Governor’s Mansion. Would have been daughter of the president had her father not been shot. Would have been daughter-in-law to the current president had her fiancé not died. Would have one day been wife to a congressman and later, most likely, to a president.

There wasn’t much about her since then. She popped up in photos at the White House every Christmas. Every now and then her cases would make the news. But other than that, she had ducked out of Washington life altogether. It was odd considering she might be the closest thing there is to royalty in this country. Washington’s own princess. And yet, she was nearly invisible to the press.

It didn’t make sense. But nothing about Clarke so far made sense. It didn’t make sense the nation’s princess grew up to be a ruthless defense lawyer instead of a politician herself. It didn’t make sense that Kane picked her. It didn’t make sense that despite knowing Kane well, she walked away so easily today. And it certainly didn’t make sense that she wanted to talk to Bellamy tonight.

When he got to Grounders, she was seated at a booth in the back, scribbling something in her notepad. He scanned the diner, not seeing anyone who seemed to take notice of him being there. She was right about no one recognizing him, just like no one seemed to know who she was. But why would someone suspect she was the Clarke Griffin when she showed up in leggings and had her hair thrown up into a messy ponytail? And why would someone think he was a senator when he showed up in jeans and glasses?

She didn’t look up as he approached, instead saying, “You’re late” as she tucked her things into her bag.

“You said around ten, not at ten,” he corrected, and a smirk formed on her lips. In truth, he sat outside in his car for several minutes before working up the courage to come inside.

“You should be a lawyer,” she teased, her blue eyes finally meeting his. He took off his coat before sliding into the booth, and he could feel Clarke’s eyes on him as she sipped her coffee.

“Not sure I could stomach some of the clients you take on,” he replied. Murderers, arsonists, mobsters… it was no wonder this girl walked in that courtroom like she owned it. She had to be confident to take on people like that.

“I assure you that my clients are no worse than the men who sit beside you in the Senate,” she said without missing a beat. He blinked a few times at her, trying to come up with a witty retort. But there wasn’t one. She was right on the money. Bellamy might be new here, but he still heard things.

“What are your questions?”

“First question: do you actually want this?”

Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows, wondering why it was the first time he had been asked that. But Kane never asked Bellamy if he wanted anything, instead telling him he needed it. It took him a moment to answer, perhaps a beat too long to remember why he was doing this. “I come from a state that is very big on family values, thus making it necessary.”

“That’s Kane’s answer,” Clarke snapped. He swallowed, though he didn’t break the tense eye contact. She wasn’t wrong. He might as well had copied and pasted Kane’s exact words. “I want yours.”

Clarke waved over the waitress as he thought over his own answer. His mind was blank. It had only been a few days since Raven first brought this up. Everything had passed in such a haze that he hadn’t stopped to think about what he wanted. He didn’t want to be thrown into a marriage for his career. But he wanted to be successful in the Senate more than anything… and being thrown into this marriage seemed to be the best way to do that.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, wincing as he looked back at Clarke. He knew enough about attorneys to know that they jump at any lack of certainty, so he braced himself for Clarke to rip him apart like she tore apart that witness on the stand.

“I know you don’t. Could see it on your face when we met,” she told him before shooting a smile at the waitress. “He’ll have a black coffee, and I’d like a slice of apple pie if you still have some.” He sat there in silence, tapping his fingers on the table as the waitress left. “So, what I can piece together is that Kane tends to tell you what you need, and you blindly follow.”

“No,” Bellamy snapped. She raised her eyebrows but didn’t say a word. He could see where she got that from. It wasn’t like Bellamy looked like he was in charge when Clarke met him earlier. “I pushed back on legislative issues with him and stood my ground. But this whole thing is a little out of my wheelhouse. I mean, I never expected him to suggest arranging… what? A political marriage? Who does that?”

“Everyone in this town, Bellamy,” she whispered. On some level, he already knew that. But it was an unspoken suspicion. Too many perfect pairings, too many perfectly crafted narratives. “My parents did, and it worked out great. But you have to know what you’re getting into for it to work. Going in blind and agreeing to the first girl Marcus suggests is a horrible move.”

“I didn’t agree. He dragged me to the courthouse without telling me why I was there,” Bellamy clarified.

“So, you admit I was at the top of the list,” she smirked, and he had to fight not to roll his eyes. “Well, when you tell him no on me, he will suggest a woman named Ontari. Do yourself a favor and say no on that one.”

He caught his breath when the waitress came back with his coffee. Clarke pulled a paper from her bag while he put sweetener into his coffee. “How do you know who he’ll suggest next? Raven had a list of school teachers and nurses.”

“Much better options. Not as much political capital, but also less likely to put you on the front page for a scandal. I picture you with a nice veterinarian from the Bible Belt,” she mused. He choked on his coffee, wondering how she pegged his ex-girlfriend Gina perfectly. “Now, back on topic. Has Marcus told you what happens after you pick one?” His eyes dropped to his cup as he shook his head. He should have pressed Kane for more answers so he didn’t look clueless when meeting Clarke. When he looked up, Clarke was sliding a piece of paper across the table to him. He furrowed his brows as he looked it over, recognizing it as some kind of timeline. “That was for me and Wells. You’ll find the frequency of public dates, optimal time periods for a proposal to boost approval ratings, at which points during his future term in Congress would be best for me to become pregnant…”

He should be more alarmed about the words coming out of her mouth, but one realization made it impossible for him to think about them. “You’ve done this before,” he whispered, shaking his head. No, Wells Jaha and Clarke Griffin looked madly in love. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it was real. He watched old footage of them today, seeing how they were with each other… and it wasn’t real. His eyes widened at Clarke, now understanding why Kane wanted it to be Clarke. She was a convincing liar, the kind that tricked an entire country into thinking she had an epic love story with her childhood best friend.

“At my engagement party, I received a list of acceptable godparents for my children along with a list of approved baby names from my grandparents. My point is that once you set this course, your relationship with whoever you choose will be rigid and calculated… completely out of your control. It’s hard for most people to swallow,” she explained.

He narrowed his eyes at her, wondering how she did it. Maybe it became real. She and Wells could have grown to love each other. And every year since Wells died, Clarke went with Jaha to the cemetery to grieve for Wells. Jaha treated her like a daughter, had her over for all the holidays, kept her at his side for all the remaining events of his campaign that year. He has said over and over that Clarke was the only family he had left, the only connection he had to his son. So, something had to be real there.

“How did you deal with it?” he asked, and for the first time, Clarke’s gaze faltered.

“Wells was my best friend. It was different,” she sighed, her eyes dropping down to her hands. “Also, I was raised in all this. From the moment I met Wells, it was the plan I’d one day marry him. I had a long time to figure it all out.”

“You were raised in this,” he repeated. If her parents had this arrangement, it made sense that she would too one day. It was normal to her… a thought that scared Bellamy. “Is that why Kane was so adamant you were the one for this?” She rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “What? I still don’t know why he dragged me to the courthouse only for you to say no.”

Clarke shook her head, the smile still ghosting on her lips. This wasn’t quite the same girl he saw in court this morning. She was more relaxed now, easy to talk to as if he had known her long before today. “He brought you to the courthouse because he wanted me to be curious, which worked. I had questions, hence why we’re here,” she sighed. When the waitress came to their table with the pie, Clarke’s face lit up. “This is literally the best thing you’ll eat all week,” she promised as she slid a fork to Bellamy. She didn’t wait for him to take it before taking a bite of her own, moaning as she fluttered her eyes shut.

He chuckled to himself as he took the fork, giving in. Pie wasn’t his thing, but Clarke had answered more of his questions in one night than Kane had in months, so he wasn’t about to be rude to her. “As for why he picked me, I have some theories. Unlike the other prospective wives on his list, I already know how to be a politician’s wife. I was literally raised for it. My grandmother used to tell me I’d make a great First Lady one day.”

“Not president?” he asked, and she shook her head, her jaw a bit tense.

“Anyway, you need my connections across the aisle. Plus, being married to a Griffin would look damn good to your voters. You’d still be a Democrat, but a Democrat who is conservative enough to gain the approval of the Walters family.”

“But I don’t have the approval of the Walters family. You can’t tell me that Richard Walters would be thrilled that his only grandchild married a Democrat when all his money is invested in controlling the GOP.”

“You’re right about that,” she snickered. “He’d hate you.”

“Then, why would Kane think we could work around it?”

“Because I haven’t spoken to my grandfather since the day of Wells’ funeral,” she said, and he cocked his head to the side. “Look, old Washington families are all about legacy, and I am all the Walters family has left. That gives me a unique kind of leverage over him. If I decided this was what I wanted, he would have to support me.”

“You sure about that?”

Clarke clenched her jaw as she glanced over her shoulder. Then, she turned back and leaned forward. “The last thing I said to him was that I refused to be in the same room as him unless it was at his funeral,” she whispered. “He isn’t a good man. You wouldn’t believe the hell he put me through. So, he has a lot of making up to do if he wants me to come back to the family. It wouldn’t be hard to force him into letting this happen.”

“So, this will actually work?” Bellamy asked. “You and me?”

“No.”

“You just explained to me how it would work,” he groaned.

“It would work, but it won’t come to that because you won’t be able to answer my second question,” Clarke replied. “Why would I want to go through with this?”

Bellamy let out a breath. This question… this was a question he could answer. He was damn good at persuasive speeches, good enough when he was in Afghanistan and good enough now when he’s pushing his fellow senators. Bellamy was phenomenal with his liberal constituents and was getting better with conservative ones. He could talk Clarke into this.

But when he opened his mouth to speak, she held her hand up. “Let me rephrase the question. Why after watching my father’s assassination and being thrown in front of the press when Wells died would I want to come back?” she asked, and Bellamy’s chest tightened. Her face was stoic, in a way he wasn’t sure he could muster if he was saying such heartbreaking things. But there was a small break in her voice, giving her own devastation away. “Any joint interview we do, I will be asked about my father. I will be asked about Wells. When we get engaged, I’ll have to do solo interviews where nosy reporters ask me how I managed to find love again after losing the love of my life. If I put myself back out on the nation’s radar to be your politically advantageous wife, I will get dragged into sharing my Wells Jaha sob story over and over again to help Thelonious’ approval rating in his reelection campaign. So, why would I ever subject myself to that again?”

Bellamy sat back in his seat, eyes wide as he stared at her. Clarke’s face was still composed, a skill she must have picked up over the years in politics. But he could feel her pain, the kind of pain that comes from losing a parent and best friend in the span of a few years. It wasn’t that different from losing his mother and sister, the only two people he had ever loved. Though, at least his sister was still out there. At least he could see her again. Clarke didn’t have that. Wells Jaha was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. And stepping back into Washington would reopen all those wounds for her.

He couldn’t do that to her. She didn’t deserve that. No one did.

“There isn’t one,” he whispered. Her eyes narrowed in confusion, her lips parted as if she had a question.

“What?”

“It isn’t worth it for you,” he admitted. If she brought him here looking for a reason why, he didn’t have it for her. Maybe if Bellamy were someone else, he’d manage an argument to talk her into it… but he couldn’t. “So, I won’t even ask. Thank you for your advice on this, though. No one has been this honest with me since I got to Washington, so thank you.”

When he moved to slide out of the booth, Clarke grabbed his hand, stopping him. His eyes jumped to meet hers, startled and confused by the gentle contact. She opened her mouth to say something before shutting it again. Finally, she said, “I can still help you. Any connection, any invite, any advice you need… just call, okay?”

He gave her a once over, a small smile forming on his lips. He kind of liked Clarke Griffin, something he wasn’t sure he would say after she brushed him off this morning. And there was some part of him that regretted his answer to her question, though it was the honest one. But he wished he had a reason for her to want this too… because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t find anyone like Clarke Griffin. “Thank you,” he told her, though those words didn’t seem like enough.

He walked up to the register, feeling her eyes on him. He fought the urge to look back at her, not wanting to prolong the goodbye. “Break up, huh?” the cashier asked, and Bellamy tried not to laugh at the odd accuracy of that assessment.

“Something like that,” he muttered before telling him to keep the change.

As he walked out of Grounders, his mind was flooded with questions about what to do now. Clarke Griffin would have been perfect. On paper, she was already flawless. But talking to her… it was the most at ease he had felt in Washington ever. The idea of marrying a stranger should be terrifying, but for a moment in there, when it was Clarke he might marry… he didn’t feel panicked. He felt at ease, informed, and prepared for what was to come. Bellamy didn’t need to look at Kane’s list to know that Clarke was the one he wanted.

He stole a glance back at the diner, spotting Clarke through the window. She was on the phone now, her head thrown back as she ran her fingers through her hair.

He shook his head before getting into his car, reminding himself that she wasn’t an option anymore. He would have to settle for someone else.

 

* * *

 

His next morning went by in a haze. Bellamy barely stayed awake during the confirmation hearings because he hardly slept last night. Clarke put so many questions in his head about what he was doing with Kane, and he realized there wasn’t anyone who worked for him that he trusted much. Sure, he trusted they were doing what was necessary, but no one included Bellamy in the process. Clarke Griffin was the only person who had treated him like a partner in this, like someone who had a say in what happened with his life.

He found himself googling her as he walked back to his office, grinning to himself when he saw that she won her case today. Not that he was surprised.

“Maya, what does the rest of my day look like?” he asked, still skimming through the article as he stumbled into his office.

“Strategy session with Marcus Kane, a meeting with some constituents at three, and then a few hours off to get ready for the fundraiser tonight.”

Bellamy’s head snapped up before he walked around to see what Maya was talking about. There was an American Heart Association fundraiser tonight, something he had known about but had not been planning on attending. “This isn’t supposed to be on my schedule.”

“Yes, it is,” Kane announced from the desk, not even looking up at them. “You’ll be seated next to Clarke Griffin, who you will immediately hit it off with and ask on a date for say Tuesday of next week, which works with her schedule. There’ll easily be a few photos of you two taken tonight, and there you have the beginning of your whirlwind romance.”

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy chuckled, pacing toward him. “You were there when Clarke said no yesterday.”

“Clarke called this morning,” Kane replied. “She said she reached out to you yesterday, and something you said made her change her mind. She didn’t tell you?”

“First I’m hearing of it,” he muttered, shaking his head. He tucked his hands into his pockets while Kane broke down how the evening would go. Bellamy searched through his memories of last night, trying to understand why Clarke would change her mind. She had no logical reason to. He understood why she wanted to be done. He would be too if it were him.

So, why would she want to marry him? Why did she want to come back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See y'all Thursday and happy early Halloween!


	3. Business as Usual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things about this chapter:  
> 1\. They're gonna talk about Octavia, and the Blakes' relationship is as close to canon as I could get. That means it won't be particularly flattering for Octavia. I don't dwell on it for long, but abuse is discussed.  
> 2\. They're gonna talk about Abby, whose storyline is as close to s5 canon as possible too.  
> Anyway, thanks for all the feedback guys! You're the best!

“Is that Clarke Griffin?” He had spent the entire past hour waiting to hear that question, becoming more anxious with every passing minute.

Bellamy’s head snapped in the same direction as Roan’s, spotting a familiar blonde making her way through the entrance. Her hair was curled tonight, cascading past her shoulders softly. “Jake Griffin’s daughter, right?” he asked, the way he had been practicing all day. Pike nodded beside him, though there was a strange look on his face as he looked over at Clarke.

A few people stepped out of the way, no longer obscuring his view of Clarke. She wore a pink cocktail dress, conservative in the front yet plunging very low in the back. He jerked his head back to look at Roan before he was caught staring, though Roan was still gaping at her. Bellamy cleared his throat, which finally snapped Roan out of it. “Excuse me,” Roan murmured, setting his drink down on the bar behind them.

“What the hell is she doing back here?” Pike muttered.

“What do you mean?” Bellamy asked. He snuck another glance at Clarke, who had now turned enough for him to see her face. Her makeup was softer than it had been in the courtroom, more like how he remembered her from the news years ago.

Then, Clarke spotted Roan, and something changed behind her eyes. It was subtle, so subtle that no one she was talking to would notice. She put on a smile as Roan hugged her and looked like she was saying all the right things. But something was off.

“Just hoped she would have gotten out of here for good. This town did a number on her,” Pike huffed. He patted Bellamy’s back before walking away, and Clarke came back into view.

Roan had his brows furrowed as he talked to her, his hand resting on her back as he guided her toward the bar. Bellamy dropped his eyes before someone caught him, though the tension in his chest didn’t disappear once they were out of sight. Something didn’t feel right about how the two of them acted with each other. He shook his head, focusing on the strange look in Clarke’s eyes when she spotted Roan instead of the way Bellamy felt when he saw Roan’s hand on Clarke’s back. Getting jealous was ridiculous. He hardly knew Clarke, let alone had any claim on her.

“Oh, Clarke, have you met Bellamy?” he heard Roan say as they approached, and Bellamy snapped his head up. “Or, I mean, Senator Blake?”

Clarke’s eyes locked with Bellamy’s. “Bellamy is fine,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

“I’m Clarke,” she replied, taking his hand. It felt as warm and soft as it did last night when she grabbed it, a small reassurance for his terrified nerves. She let go to turn and order her drink, and Bellamy glanced up at Roan, who still seemed confused to see Clarke there. Not that Bellamy could blame him or Pike. Clarke had disappeared to the world, only appearing when she had to. They didn’t know why she was back. To be honest, Bellamy didn’t either. It was something that had been on his mind all day. Why did she change her mind?

“So, I hear you’re a defense attorney now,” Roan said to her. “Closed a tough murder case, right?”

Without missing a beat, Clarke smirked back at him. “Well, unlike senators, I am paid to get things done,” she replied, and Bellamy nearly choked from his unexpected laughter. Clarke kept her eyebrow raised as she stared Roan down, and he seemed to be struggling to keep his own laugh in. Once her wine was poured and in her hand, she turned to Bellamy. “So, Bellamy, where are you from?”

She had this soft smile on her lips, the kind that felt impossible to look away from. Her eyes were gentle, the kind of blue that reminded him of a calm sea. For a moment, he forgot why they were both here. He forgot this was beginning of the lie they would stage for the whole country to see.

 

* * *

 

The night went by in a haze. He found himself amazed as he watched Clarke, as he saw how easily she seemed to just exist here. She had the whole table nearly in love with her as she talked and schmoozed effortlessly. There wasn’t a moment where he felt lost about what to do since she led the way. And he found himself jealous of her ability to belong anywhere she went. Bellamy had been fighting for a year to feel like he belonged in Washington, and Clarke came back for one night and was already right at home.

He didn’t hold that against her. There was a reason this was so easy for Clarke when it wasn’t for Bellamy. She was raised in this. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that the kind of political coaching he had been getting for the past year was the kind of coaching Clarke had been getting since she could talk. Bellamy was beginning to learn the language, but Clarke had been speaking it her whole life. As jealous as he was of her skills, he wasn’t even a little jealous of how she got them. At least Bellamy got to be a kid, meanwhile Clarke was born to be a political asset for her family.

“I think that went well,” she whispered as they made their way outside. He had offered to walk her to her car, earning a strange look from Roan.

“Yeah,” he replied. It was casual, an easy start to their charade. And at the very least, Roan took notice of how the two of them connected. “How do you know Roan?”

“Officially, our parents were friends,” Clarke said. “Unofficially, he was who bought Wells and I booze when we were still in high school.”  Bellamy snorted, having a hard time imagining the nation’s princess getting drunk. Her perfect image didn’t allow it. “I’m serious,” she huffed, swatting his arm.

“Okay sure,” he shrugged, catching the roll of her eyes as she looked away. There was still something off about how the two of them were around each other. For an old friend, Clarke didn’t seem at ease with him. “So, want to tell me why you changed your mind?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, and he stopped walking.

“Last night you told me no, Clarke.”

“No, technically you told yourself no for me,” she smirked, tilting her head up to look at him. “I never said no to you, just Marcus.”

He let his eyes fall shut, groaning quietly. She was such a lawyer. “Clarke,” he pleaded.

“Look, I have my reasons,” she shrugged.

“Which are?”

“Are you always this nosy?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“I know that you wouldn’t agree to this if there wasn’t something you got out of it. I’d like to know what that is,” he huffed.

A small smile formed on her lips before she gave him a once over. “I’ll see you Tuesday,” she smirked before turning around.

He watched her walk to her car, and though her back was to him, he just knew she was still smirking. When she finally opened her car door, he caught the smirk on her lips. She pushed her blonde locks back, looking over her shoulder at him. He pressed his lips together, shaking his head at her. He’d figure out what was in this for her eventually, but it still drove him insane that she wouldn’t tell him.

Clarke winked at him before getting into her car. Bellamy swallowed before making his way to the sidewalk, trying to get that infuriating princess out of his thoughts. He imagined he’d spend a lot of time doing that… trying to get her out of his head. But if he knew anything about Clarke Griffin, it was that she would make that damn near impossible.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy was the first senator to comment to the media about the bill’s failure. He got to rant about McCreary and Pike failing to work together, and the reporters were eating it up. He gave statements to every major outlet. He came off as a rational adult compared to McCreary who was whining like a toddler to the media because members of his own party turned at the last minute.

He rode this high all the way to Clarke’s apartment to pick her up for their date. “Someone had a good day at the office,” she teased when she opened the door. He followed her into the apartment, his eyes automatically giving her a once over. Her hair was up tonight, and she wore a red skirt and black blouse. When she turned back to face him, he saw her lipstick matched the skirt almost perfectly. She looked beautiful, not that he had ever seen her when she didn’t. “My client told me to shut up so he could hear you better when you came on CNN.”

“Did you tell your arsonist that telling his lawyer to shut up is certifiably insane?” he snorted. She moved over to the couch, grabbing her purse. He scanned her apartment, noticing the large, modern art covering her walls. He’d be surprised if Raven hadn’t included that Clarke was an art lover in the file on her.

“Alleged arsonist,” she corrected. Her home was spotless, minus the pile of work documents on her kitchen counter. “And I did tell him that.”

“Good. You ready?” he asked her, tucking his hands into his pocket. He wouldn’t say he was nervous about tonight. Raven had coached him all week on what to say. Monty lectured him about what to do. And even if Bellamy forgot everything they told him, he had Clarke. She would correct him if he screwed up, and she wouldn’t make him feel horrible about it. Kane threw confusing maps at him and assumed he’d figure out where to go, while Clarke would lead him by the hand if he got lost. So, he wasn’t nervous. Not to be with Clarke.

But there was some energy bubbling inside him he couldn’t quite place. Something that didn’t let him get comfortable.

 

* * *

 

“How are things going with Marcus?” she asked before taking a sip of her wine. Kane got them a seat by the window, putting a good distance between them and the closest table. It meant they could actually talk to each other, not just make small talk for hours like they did at the fundraiser.

“Well, he was in a great mood given how today went. I’m finally starting to catch up with where his head is, so it’s gotten easier.”

“Yeah, he isn’t the best at communicating his thought process, though he is usually right,” she sighed, shaking her head with a small smile.

“How well do you know him?” Bellamy asked, strumming his fingers on the table cloth. “I know he worked for your dad, but it seems like you know him really well.”

“Too well,” she snorted. “Growing up, he was like an uncle who only showed up to tell me to stop slouching on camera or to drill me with practice questions in case an interviewer actually asked me something.”

“Jesus,” he huffed, ducking his head, and Clarke burst out laughing. “Can’t imagine what that was like.”

“Annoying as hell, let me tell you,” she giggled. Bellamy could certainly relate. Kane drove him nuts most days, making it more infuriating when he always turned out to be right. “It’s easier now because he knows that I know what to do. His micromanaging is mostly limited to you,” she teased, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

“I’m sure he’ll find a way to micromanage you anyway,” he quipped, and she dramatically rolled her eyes before taking another sip. “He wants you to start joining our meetings as soon as the public catches onto you and me.”

“Oh, so next week, since there’s a reporter hiding across the street right now,” she chuckled. When Bellamy turned to see hat she was talking about, she whispered, “Bellamy.” He narrowed his eyes at her in confusion, and she erupted into a quiet giggle. “Don’t look at him.”

“You can’t tell me there’s someone watching us and expect me not to look, Clarke,” he huffed. “Or at least start by telling me not to look. You know I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

“Yes, you do. Maybe not on paparazzi nonsense, but in general, you do. Don’t sell yourself short.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw what Clarke was talking about. There was a subtle rustling in the bush across the street, meaning there was a reporter with a camera watching them.

“I really don’t.”

“I know you’ve been on dates before, Bellamy,” she teased. He had, but none like this. This wasn’t exactly the movie dates he took Gina on in high school.

“Yeah, but this isn’t really a date, is it?” he pointed out.

“What else would you call a dinner with someone you’re planning on marrying?” she snorted. Bellamy blinked a few times as he thought that over, realizing she had a point there. “No matter how inauthentic it is, it’s still a date. So, unless you’re about to tell me you’ve never dated before, you know what to do on a date.”

“Fine,” he conceded before reaching over to grab her hand. It was as soft as he remembered from the night at the diner, and the contact shocked him just as much as it did then. “Happy now?” he asked, ignoring the way his chest warmed when her smaller hand relaxed into his.

“The happiest,” she teased with a huge smile. He took a sip of his drink, taking a beat to remind himself that this wasn’t real. None of it was. Clarke was just really good at this. “So, tell me, what kind of dirt did Raven find on me?”

Bellamy choked on his drink as his eyes widened at her. “What are you talking about?” he asked, playing dumb.

A smirk formed on her lips as she traced a small circle into his wrist. “Politicians are supposed to be better liars than that, Bellamy,” she teased. “What is the worst thing you read in the file on me?”

He took a longer sip of his wine, feeling her eyes on him as he took a beat to think this over. “Honestly,” he started, “your disappearing act. There isn’t any dirt on you. Squeaky clean.” Almost annoyingly so. The perfect princess. In his old life, he would have resented her for it, hated her even. “Is there something that Raven should have found?”

“No, my secrets are buried,” she replied, and he cocked an eyebrow. “As are yours, apparently.”

“You’re looking into me?”

“With what I’ve agreed to, I’d be stupid not to,” she replied. “I like knowing the liabilities and assets. But I haven’t found anything particularly damning other than a horrible haircut when you were in your early twenties.” He slammed his eyes shut as she giggled. He knew exactly what haircut she was talking about. O gave it to him, and when it turned out bad, she plastered that photo all over her social media.

He shook his head before looking at Clarke again, and her eyes were still on him but softer. Bellamy could see why Clarke looked into him and why it unnerved her when she couldn’t find any dirt on him. Everyone had something bad that could come out down the line, and it would be better for Clarke to know what his was. Just like it would be better if Bellamy knew her secrets so he wouldn’t be blind sighted. “Alright,” he decided, “I’ll tell you my liabilities if you tell me yours.”

“Cool, totally normal first date conversation,” she chuckled.

“You brought it up,” he retorted.

“Okay, fair. But I have a condition. This stays between us. No Marcus Kane, got it?”

“Why not?”

Her eyes fell downcast as she looked at their joined hands. He didn’t understand why she would want to keep something from Kane, especially given that she knew how this whole thing worked. The only way they could all work together is if they were completely honest. “It’s not my secret, and I had to promise not to tell him,” she whispered. He wasn’t sure if the way she squeezed his hand was intentional or a reflex, but there was something nervous about it… and he wasn’t used to seeing Clarke Griffin nervous.

“Okay, no Kane,” he promised.

“My biggest liability is my mother,” she sighed, her eyes falling shut.

“What?”

Abby Griffin wasn’t someone he would think of as a liability. She’s part of one of the biggest political dynasties in this country’s history and was married to _the_ Jake Griffin. If anything, she was quite the asset to have in Clarke’s corner.

“She isn’t okay,” Clarke explained. “After my dad died, she was a mess and started taking pills. At first, it wasn’t that bad, just a way to cope with her grief. I thought I got her to stop… I really did. But while I was on the campaign trail with Thelonious and Wells, she got worse.” Now that Bellamy thought about it, he hadn’t seen Abby Griffin around lately. In all the photos of Clarke he had found online, only one of them had Abby in it, and that was at Wells’ funeral. “The only reason I wasn’t in the car with Wells that night is because I was back at home trying to talk her into rehab.”

“Clarke, I’m so—”

“It’s alright,” she cut him off, pulling her hand from his. He instantly missed the contact but didn’t dare try for her hand again. “But you needed to know that she has been in and out of rehab for the past few years in case that came to light in the future. And I really need you not to tell Kane about it.”

He wanted to press her on it more, to ask how she was doing with her mom’s addiction… but he could see she didn’t want to say any more on the subject. So, instead, Bellamy said, “My sister is my biggest liability.” Clarke’s eyes met his, wide and confused. “It’s not quite as bad, but there is no way in hell she could be an asset for me.”

“I thought you were really close with your sister. Didn’t you raise her?”

“I did,” he sighed. “It’s a long story, but she hasn’t stopped blaming me for not being there when mom died.” Clarke’s lips parted, and he could tell she wanted to ask about it. He kept talking so she couldn’t. “Octavia has a bad anger management problem.”

“Bad how?” Clarke asked, leaning forward with a concerned look on her face.

“Short fuse, a tendency to lash out at whoever is nearby. She tends to hit things when she gets angry,” he said carefully. When he looked up at Clarke again, he realized she caught what he really meant. “It’s not like that,” he corrected, and Clarke pressed her lips together. “She’s my little sister, so it’s not like she could ever actually hurt me,” he lied.

When he was about to speak again, he felt Clarke’s hand take hold of his. He let his eyes shut for a moment, focusing on the soft pressure on his hand. “Where is she now?” Clarke whispered.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. Raven asked him if he wanted her to find Octavia a few weeks ago, and Bellamy couldn’t bring himself to say yes. He wasn’t ready to find her, just like she wasn’t ready to be found. “And it’s for the best that she stays away. I can’t trust her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And I’m sorry about your mom,” he replied.

The two of them fell into silence. Clarke seemed to be deep in thought, as was he. Bellamy should feel more nervous about Clarke knowing this much about him… but for some reason, he didn’t. He trusted her, just as she seemed to trust him.

When he looked up at her, Clarke was still looking down, her brows furrowed. “One more thing,” she whispered, her blue eyes finally meeting his. “I didn’t think I’d come back to Washington so I wasn’t as careful…”

“Clarke.”

“I’m not straight,” she blurted out. “I’m bi, and if I were from any other family, that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“It isn’t a problem,” he pointed out, and a weak smile formed on her lips.

“It is in this town. If it came out, it would be in every attack ad against you to rally the homophobic voters. So, you needed to know this,” she said, diverting her eyes from his. “I’ve had one girlfriend, and I am almost certain that will never get out. She has more to lose than I do if it did.”

“Clarke,” he said, a bit sterner, and she finally looked at him again. “Your sexual orientation isn’t a problem. It’s part of who you are.”

“It’s a problem for you. It’s a problem in your state. Tennessee isn’t close to criminalizing conversation therapy, nor does it have laws against discrimination in housing or in the workplace. So, it is in everyone’s best interest that your future wife is seen as perfectly straight,” she replied, a bit too rehearsed for comfort. “At least for now.”

“I would never ask you to stay in the closet, Clarke. You do know that, right?” he asked.

“I know. You’re not like the politicians I’m used to,” she whispered. “But I made peace with this years ago. I was warned by my grandparents about what would happen to my dad’s campaign if I came out. So, this isn’t something I’m taking lightly. It’s a conscious choice to keep it my own personal business for myself and for you. It’s okay, Bellamy. It’s the same decision I made for my dad and for Wells, and I’m still fine with it.”

She was stoic as she spoke, guarded even. He didn’t understand how she talked about this so calmly. All he could imagine was a teenage Clarke Griffin working up the courage to come out only to be told that she never could. He remembered how freeing it was when Miller finally came out to his dad, to his friends… how he seemed so much happier once it was out there and off his shoulders. But Clarke still bore the weight of the secret, keeping it hidden like her mother’s addiction or how she really felt. The Clarke Griffin the world saw was not the real Clarke Griffin. The real her only showed up in stolen moments, in the quiet seconds of the day when it was safe for her to surface to take a breath.

“The good news is that it’s not going to be out there, so it won’t be an issue. And the other things are easily worked around,” she said as if this was business as usual. And for Clarke, it _was_ business as usual. This had been her life… how it had always been.

He wanted to reassure her, but her guard was too strong. “Great, let me find some assets and we’ll be good to go,” he joked, dropping the subject for now.

“Your main asset is you, Bellamy,” Clarke corrected. And when his eyes met hers, he realized she was dead serious. “You inspire people. It’s as simple as that.”

It wasn’t that he wasn’t aware of that. It was that he never heard it coming from someone else. Words of praise weren’t something he was used to, not from his childhood, not from his time serving, and certainly not from his time in Washington. Kane would occasionally say something positive, but it was never as warm as the words that easily spilled off Clarke’s lips.

Maybe this was just how Clarke was. She could figure out what he was desperate to hear. Since that night at Grounders, Clarke had been putting him at ease, giving him answers to the questions he hadn’t thought to ask. Just a word from her could silence the panic in his mind, and he wasn’t sure anyone else had been able to be this for him before. She put his mind to rest, made him feel less alone.

 

* * *

 

They walked out of the restaurant hand in hand, both laughing at Clarke’s ridiculous Kane impression. He opened her door, and Clarke stopped before getting in. She turned to look at Bellamy. “The reporter is still watching us,” she whispered, and this time he didn’t make the mistake of turning to look at him.

“Okay, and?” he asked.

“Anything we do right this second will be photographed and printed somewhere tomorrow,” she explained, though he still wasn’t catching her point. She blinked a few times as she waited for him to get it, but he only shrugged. “Kiss me,” she ordered.

He acted before his brain processed her command, cupping her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her. It wasn’t until her soft lips were against his that he realized what he was doing.

Logically, he understood that he would have to kiss her… that he’d have to kiss her a lot for the press. But it seemed like such a far-off thing to him, something he had time to warm up to. He didn’t expect to be kissing Clarke Griffin after their first date… nor did he expect his heart to pound this hard as he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

She pulled away first, and his body leaned toward her before realizing that was it for now. He couldn’t hear anything but the pounding in his ears as she climbed into the car. He could still feel her warm lips on his as he shut the door behind her. His throat grew dry as he walked around the car, his mind whispering that it was fake, planned, inauthentic… But it felt real, too real.

What was scarier was that he wanted to try it again, that his body moved of its own accord to take her lips back, to chase the heart-pounding, warm feeling as far as he could…

“Sorry for springing that on you,” she told him as soon as he got in the driver’s seat. “But who knows how many dates it would take to get another opportunity like that.” Right, it was an opportunity, a staged moment. Not real, definitely not real… no matter how his heart rate said otherwise.

“It’s fine,” he choked out, not even daring to look at her. “Just caught me by surprise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked this update. See you again on Monday!


	4. The Sweet Princess Act

Bellamy knew about the tabloid cover long before Maya brought it to his desk. His phone was constantly buzzing on his way to the Capitol with tweets and emails. He politely declined talking to reporters the way Kane instructed him to, sucking in a deep breath once he was in his office.

When he got his hands on the tabloid, he could see why there was such a public freak out about it. It was a damn good photo that the reporter got of them kissing, one that sent the heat straight to Bellamy’s cheeks. His heart pounded at the memory.

He flipped through the pages until he got to the article which contained photos of them holding hands at dinner and walking out together. One of them caught Clarke mid laugh and Bellamy smiling at her like lovesick teenager. Too bad he and Clarke crafted this perfect story and it wasn’t real.

The article focused more on Clarke’s story than his, refreshing its readers on her heartbreak from Wells Jaha’s death. “Other outlets are picking up the story, so Maya is running interference on the calls from the press,” Kane said, leaning against the doorframe. “You two did good.”

“Thanks,” Bellamy mumbled, closing the tabloid before he had to read another sentence about Clarke finding love again after all these years. “At some point, we will have to reach out to the press.”

“That’ll have to wait until after Clarke gets back from Charleston,” Kane sighed, and Bellamy’s head snapped up. Clarke didn’t mention anything about going to Charleston last night… he was sure of it. And from the file he had memorized on Clarke, he could only think of one reason why she would go to South Carolina without warning.

“Why is she in Charleston?” he asked, praying there was another explanation.

“Richard Walters summoned her. Sent his private jet and everything to drag her back there for a talk,” Kane huffed, kicking the door behind him before sitting down across from Bellamy. “Don’t worry. Clarke was aware this would happen. Just maybe not so soon.” Bellamy pulled his phone out from his pocket, ready to dial Clarke. “Don’t,” he warned. “She was seething when I got off the phone with her two hours ago. You really don’t want to talk to her right now.”

Bellamy groaned as he rested his head on his desk. “Then, what am I supposed to do?”

“Your job. You have hearings to get through today. You don’t have to avoid the reporters. Just tell them no comment on your relationship with Clarke and only answer questions about your work in the Senate. We’ll adjust the strategy when we hear from Clarke,” he explained. With another groan, Bellamy pushed himself up and braced himself for a long, long day.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy wasn’t sure why he invited Murphy over. He didn’t really like the guy all that much. Maybe he was just lonely. Back home, he had plenty of friends. But here, he didn’t really have anyone, at least not many people he could be honest with. The closest thing he had to a friend was Clarke, who he met last week and couldn’t talk to until she got back from South Carolina. So, he was spending his evening with John Murphy.

“Wait, go back,” Murphy said as Bellamy flipped through the channels. Murphy held up his hand when he got to the E! channel, and Bellamy let out a groan. “Give it two minutes. I want to see if they start talking about you and Clarke.”

Bellamy threw his head back as he downed the rest of his beer. Murphy started typing away on his phone as soon as Clarke’s name came up on the coverage. Bellamy groaned all the way back to his kitchen as he went to grab another drink. He could vaguely hear the TV as they covered the one date they had been on and a source “close to Senator Blake” confirmed that they met at the fundraiser the week before. Had to be Roan.

“You know, the longer we go without saying anything, the more they’re gonna exaggerate it,” Bellamy grumbled. He knew why he couldn’t talk to the press. For all he knew, things could be totally different when Clarke got back. They needed to be on the same page before any decisions were made.

“Yeah,” Murphy sighed. “They’re already comparing you to Wells.” When he looked at the screen, they were showing old footage of Clarke and Wells on the campaign trail, her massive engagement ring in plain sight. There was something so weird about watching them, knowing that it wasn’t real for them either. It just… it looked so convincing. Every kiss on the cheek, every time they smiled at each other. Maybe it’s just because they were best friends.

“Alright, that’s enough of this,” Bellamy sighed, flipping the channel. After all, he was trying to get his mind off Clarke Griffin. He spent all day today and yesterday being hounded with questions about her. And not just from reporters either. McCreary asked him about it as they walked onto the Senate floor, asking how her family took the news that she was dating some Democrat. And all these interrogations made him more anxious about the fact that he had no idea what was happening with her right now…

… not to mention that he couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

“Did Kane ever tell you what it was like when he died?” Murphy asked, sinking into the couch. Bellamy shook his head, not sure why Kane would ever talk to Bellamy about that. “Everything about it is so weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Like when the news first hit, he couldn’t find any of them. Jaha was passed out drunk in his room before it even happened. Clarke wasn’t picking up the phone,” he explained, and Bellamy recalled what Clarke said about her mother the night of the accident, which explained that. “There was something else already going on. Then, when he did get Clarke and Jaha together to break the news, Abby Griffin was missing and the two of them acted really weird when Kane asked about it.”

“Well, it was a hard night for them,” Bellamy stuttered out, not letting him in on what Clarke told him about Abby Griffin’s state that night.

“Yeah, but this was all before they found out,” Murphy huffed.

“You know, you sound like a conspiracy theorist right now,” he pointed out, and Murphy shrugged.

“All I’m saying is that it sounded weird. Like not how I imagined that night went after seeing all the news footage about it. If your girlfriend gives you any insight on it, let me know.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bellamy huffed. Not yet, at least. “Now shut up before I make you watch CNN.”

“Contractually speaking, she is your girlfriend,” he corrected. “Probably a stupid move on her part.”

“What? You don’t have faith in me?” Bellamy snorted, and a smirk formed on Murphy’s lips.

“I was sold on you as a candidate thirty seconds into one of your speeches,” Murphy said, keeping his eyes on the screen. “Just don’t know what Clarke gets out of this unless she really wants to become a politician’s wife.”

Bellamy pressed his lips together, not having an answer for Murphy. He had lost sleep trying to figure it out, and he was pretty sure he’d never know the real reason Clarke agreed. “Don’t think that’s it,” Bellamy sighed.

“That’s comforting. You have an agreement with a damn lawyer and you don’t know how she benefits from it,” Murphy snorted. “I hope you thoroughly read through that contract.”

“It’s not like she’s going to screw me over.”

“You do realize she’s a better politician than you are, right?” Murphy asked, raising an eyebrow. “The sweet princess act is just that… an act. There’s no way she was raised in that family without learning how to play dirty.”

“Shut up, Murphy,” Bellamy snapped.

 

* * *

 

_Come here. I need to talk to you_.

Bellamy stared at Clarke’s text for a few seconds as he sat in his car outside her apartment. Kane didn’t seem worried that Clarke would call this whole thing off, and Bellamy should take comfort in that. After all, Kane knew her family well. He knew how Clarke’s meeting with them would have gone. But after three days of radio silence, Bellamy was panicked. He still didn’t know why Clarke agreed to do this with Bellamy, so he had no reason to think she wouldn’t bail after a difficult few days with her grandfather.

He practiced taking deep breaths on the elevator, reminding himself that the worst-case scenario is that he didn’t get to marry Clarke, who he wasn’t even in love with. So, all things considered, it’s not that bad of a worst-case scenario. He’d just lose Clarke… who might be the only friend he had in Washington. Certainly the only one that understood him. The only one that built him up instead of tearing him down.

He relaxed as soon as Clarke swung open the door and pulled him in for a hug, though it did take him by surprise. “When did you get back?” he asked. She must have just gotten out of the shower since her hair was wet and the smell of her shampoo was stronger than usual.

“Two hours ago,” she groaned as she closed the door behind him. She looked so tired, and he couldn’t help but wonder when the last time she slept was. “I have been gone for days, Bellamy,” she huffed before marching into the kitchen, beelining for the wine. “Riley took my arson case out from under me just so I could listen to my grandfather throw a temper tantrum for three days. I hate men.”

“Should I go then?” he snorted as Clarke slid him his glass.

“No, you don’t count. I like you,” she sighed as she poured the rest of the bottle into her glass. “I haven’t even spoken to them since Wells died, and my grandfather sends one of his guys to pick me up right before I left for work without explanation.”

“Wait, you haven’t even spoken to your family since Wells?” Bellamy asked, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Why?” He knew they hadn’t been in the same room, but he assumed that at least a phone call had transpired over the years.

“Because on the day of his funeral, my grandfather told me what a great opportunity this was for me,” Clarke snapped. “Told me that I had too much political capital to waste and I could run for any office I wanted. He never really thought of me as someone who could run for office and win before… yet he decided to pitch it to me the day we buried Wells.”

“Did he seriously think you should play up Wells’ death to get elected?” Bellamy asked, jaw dropped.

“Of course, he did. Who do you think was responsible for how the news dwelled on it for Jaha’s election?” Bellamy looked down at her counter, furrowing his brows. He knew there was a reason Clarke didn’t want to be near her family, but he didn’t think it was this bad. “Anyway, he’s left me alone since our screaming match that day, but he summoned me because of our kiss going viral.”

“What did he say?”

“That it’s a mistake,” Clarke replied, her face unreadable as she took another sip.

“And what did he say about me?” Bellamy had to ask. Eventually, he would need this man’s support if he ever wanted to get out of the Senate and into a better office.

“Nothing true,” she sighed. “Look, I should have called you while I was in Charleston, but Zeke told me my grandpa had his guys hack my phone. He’s working on getting a more secure one for me, but for the time being, I’m trying not to use it if I don’t have to.”

Bellamy’s head fell between his arms. Clarke very decidedly did not tell him what her grandfather said about Bellamy, which meant she was trying to protect him from how awful it was. Bellamy should have thought about how bad this could get for Clarke, since their relationship put her back on her family’s radar when she didn’t want anything to do with them. “Clarke, if you need to back out of this, I understand,” he told her, reaching over to grab her hand. As much as he didn’t want someone other than Clarke, he couldn’t be selfish about this. This wasn’t just his life that was changing. It was hers too.

“That’d be kind of hard to do with what I just pulled,” she chuckled. Bellamy cocked his head to the side, a question in his eyes. “So, I didn’t run this by Marcus.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” Bellamy snorted, and a guilty smile formed on her lips. “How many more reporters am I going to have all over me now?”

“A lot more,” she said, ducking her head as her cheeks went red. “Do you know a reporter by the name of Jasper Jordan?” He shook his head. “He’s a friend of mine and the biggest gossip I know.”

“What did you do?” Bellamy laughed.

“Used Zeke’s phone to call him, you know, confidentially. Talked about this new guy I’m seeing. Just friend to friend,” she smirked.

“Let me guess. He’s not going to keep any of your secrets and there’s going to be an article about us tomorrow citing a source close to Clarke Griffin?” he asked, and she buried her red face into her hands. “Clarke, you really went all out for a public fuck you to your grandfather, huh?”

He bit down on his lip to keep from laughing as Clarke nervously looked up at him, trying to gage his reaction. “I’ve been trapped in Charleston for days with nothing to do but plot how to piss him off the most. But it will help you, I promise.”

“Okay, I trust you,” he sighed, not even pretending to be upset with her. Frankly, he was relieved to see her acting like an imperfect human for once. It made Clarke Griffin just a notch less intimidating. “That all I missed?”

“I think so. What did I miss?”

“I part my hair differently now because Kane calculated that this way makes me more likeable,” he deadpanned. Clarke narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, trying to gage if he was serious or not. And when a smile cracked on his lips, she erupted into laughter that echoed throughout her apartment. He felt his grin grow, unable to help from mirroring hers.

“I hate you,” she giggled, swatting his shoulder.

“No, you don’t,” he smirked, and she rolled her eyes. “So, is this your plan for tonight?” he asked, gesturing to the bottle of wine.

“This and trashy reality shows on the couch. Wanna join?” she chuckled.

He should say no. He had an early morning tomorrow. But it’s been a really weird week, and this sounded a lot less lonely than going home to his empty apartment, so he said, “Sure, why not?”

The two of them settled on the couch and Clarke brought an unopened bottle with her. He wasn’t paying attention to the Kardashians, instead trying to wrap his head around how insane this past week had been for both of them. “Does it get easier?”

“Does what get easier?” she asked. “If you’re doing your job well, then no. It’ll keep getting harder with each better office.”

“No, you and me,” he blurted out without thinking. She turned down the show before glancing up at him, her eyes blinking rapidly. “Just like… hanging out with you now is fine. But a few days ago on the date…”

“It felt awkward, right?” she asked. Awkward wasn’t the word he would use. Every time she touched him caused him to jump, and that kiss really threw him through a loop. It was what he thought about while she was gone. And even now, he had a hard time not letting his eyes drop to her lips.

“Like going from zero to sixty,” he tried to explain without giving himself away.

“Okay, it got easier with Wells after a while,” she sighed. “We just had to work at it.”

“What does that… Oh.” He ducked his head in embarrassment when he realized what she meant.

“Listen,” Clarke sighed, setting her glass down to turn and face Bellamy. “It’s just about getting to the point where it feels natural. For example… if from now on you always greeted me by kissing my cheek, within a few weeks, it would become automatic. You wouldn’t even think about it, it wouldn’t be awkward… just a normal affectionate greeting, right?”

“Right,” he whispered.

“It’s hard right now because we aren’t comfortable with each other yet,” she explained. Though, she was only half right there. Bellamy was comfortable with her, far more than anyone else he knew these days. “That only goes away when we spend more time with each other. And maybe we try being a little more affectionate when we’re alone so it gets easier in public?”

“Okay,” he conceded, feeling uneasy about the way his chest warmed at that idea. It was the same feeling he had when he pressed his lips to hers or when he looked at that photo of them kissing. He shook that thought away as Clarke leaned forward to turn the show up again. This time when she leaned back, she slid closer to him. Following her advice, he snaked an arm around her. Clarke rested her head on his shoulder in response, and he sucked in a breath.

The scary part of this was not the fact that it felt comfortable. It was that it felt nice. It felt right… which was a dangerous feeling when it wasn’t even real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, those of you who follow me on Tumblr already know this, but I'm going through a bit of a rough time. My dad is still in the hospital without a diagnosis and I'm very much not okay at the moment. I'm going to do my best to still post on Thursday like I usually do, but if things get any worse, I may not have one for you guys until next Monday. Sorry in advance if that's the case. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for all the feedback so far! I really appreciate it! Love y'all! Hope you liked this update!


	5. Practice Run

It was what Kane called a practice run. A way to test the waters back in the home state before fully committing to it. And considering that four different people recognized Bellamy and Clarke as they arrived at the Memphis airport, compared to the zero people that would recognize him before, he would say the past three months of pretending to date Clarke were a smashing success.

Clarke was right. It got easier. Reaching for her hand became a reflex. She always seemed to be leaning into him, and without thinking, he returned that gesture with a kiss to the top of her head. It felt normal now, comfortable even. And it wasn’t only in public either. It was how they were when alone too, though they rarely were alone.

Of course, right when Bellamy started to relax with Clarke, when he started to forget this was a calculated arrangement… Kane suggested he take Clarke with him to Memphis for the gala. He understood why it was important. They needed to confirm Clarke would actually help him get reelected. Kane needed to measure if the people of Tennessee still liked her and, more importantly, if they liked her with him. Though if the two teenager girls who stopped them at baggage claim are anything to go by, people did like them together. “They aren’t even old enough to vote,” he whispered right into Clarke’s ear.

“They will be in time for the next election,” she pointed out. She squeezed his hand reassuringly, the way she always seemed to. He loved that she did that. It was a silent comfort she offered him, a reminder that he wasn’t completely alone.

As much as he preferred to have Clarke by his side, he was anxious about this trip. It’d be the longest he’s ever spent with Clarke, since usually they met up for dates or an occasional meeting before going their separate ways. But they were going to be in Memphis for two days together… sharing a room.

His anxiety turned into panic when they got to their hotel room and there was only one bed. “Oh,” was all he managed to choke out.

“Something wrong?” Clarke asked as she hung up her dress.

“No,” he replied, though it sounded more like a question. “I guess getting a room with two beds is out of the question because if word gets out that we sleep in separate beds…”

“People figure out what we’re doing, yeah,” Clarke explained, patting his shoulder as she brushed past him again. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite.”

It shouldn’t be a big deal. He was always physically close to Clarke, kissing and holding her for the cameras. The line between what was real and what was for the cameras was already blurry enough, so this couldn’t do that much damage.

But it felt like a big deal. Bellamy clung to the few distinctions between their public and private relationships desperately. He needed those distinctions to keep his focus when she batted those beautiful blue eyes at him. He reminded himself of them whenever he caught himself wanting to kiss her on the lips. And lying beside her while she slept might blur those distinctions even more. He didn’t trust himself not to curl up against her, to sleepily kiss her, to confess certain thoughts before his mind was awake enough to talk himself out of it.

The subject dropped as they both quickly changed out of the clothes they wore on the plane. The idea of sharing a bed with Clarke left his thoughts as they day went on. He was too busy shaking hands with constituents and talking policy.

And Clarke was a big hit wherever they went. The mayor adored her, as did his wife, who Clarke became instant friends with at dinner. Raven’s fear that Clarke would upstage Bellamy was disproven. He could tell that Clarke had been a presidential candidate’s daughter with how masterfully she turned the attention she got into opportunities to highlight Bellamy’s work in Washington. It was easy, seamless… something Bellamy wouldn’t have recognized if he hadn’t been coached on the same exact tactic.

Bellamy fell back into a familiar ease… until they got back to the hotel and he remembered they were sharing a bed. Clarke seemed unbothered by it, and why would she be? She probably did this all the time with Wells and didn’t give too much thought to it. Logically, this wasn’t that different from them kissing for the cameras.

But to Bellamy, it felt different. The automatic kiss he pressed to her head as he settled into the bed had a more intimate weight to it. The sleepy but happy smile that formed on her lips as he pulled away felt more genuine…

… it felt dangerous. Like this whole time he had been walking on the edge of a pool, barely keeping from falling in. Now, his own mind was failing to help him keep his balance. And it felt like just one look into those deep blue eyes would result in him letting go, voluntarily plummeting into the water.

She was fast asleep when he turned the light out, turned on her side toward Bellamy. His eyes kept drifting to her, seeing this wasn’t the perfect and polished Clarke who held onto his arm as she schmoozed with politicians and donors. This was his favorite Clarke, the one who drank wine with him in her pajamas while they watched Snapped at two in the morning. The one who would tease him in the car after one of their dates. The one he called whenever Kane had him on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The one Bellamy wanted.

He shook those thoughts out of his head before turning onto his side, facing away from her.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy scrolled through the comments on the photo of him and Clarke he posted this morning from breakfast. It wasn’t anything special, just a selfie where Clarke kissed his cheek right as he took the picture. Objectively speaking, it was adorable. And the comments verified that fact.

Bellamy was sitting at the table, mostly dressed and ready for the gala while Clarke put her makeup on in the bathroom. There was nothing for him to do right now, which never happened, so he found himself curious enough to check Twitter to see if anyone was talking about them.

Looking himself up was usually boring. The first thing that came up was McCreary dragging Bellamy by name for abstaining in last week’s vote, which of course buried any comments about Bellamy’s appearances back home. Eventually, he found a photo from the school he visited yesterday, featuring Bellamy learning about this fifth grader’s science project.

But that was about it, so he switched to looking up Clarke, which was always wilder by comparison. Once he found a thread ranking her outfits on a scale of one to “head bitch in charge.” Last month, she was a brief meme because the Huffington Post shared a photo of her listening to Cage Wallace with a grimace as she narrowed her eyes at him. And the top tweet for today had Bellamy choking on nothing.

“Bellamy, are you okay?” Clarke asked, popping her head out of the bathroom with a concerned look in her eyes.

“I’m good,” he choked out, waving her off. As soon as she was back in the bathroom, he looked down at his phone again. The tweet featured one of the photos taken of them at the airport yesterday. Bellamy was leaning down to whisper something to Clarke and a small smile was on her lips. But it wasn’t the photo that nearly had Bellamy on the floor. It was the caption.

_if you ever feel like it won’t get better remember Clarke Griffin disappeared for years because the media harassed her so bad and now our girl is getting dicked down real good honestly #GOALS_

“Why do I even check Twitter?” Bellamy grumbled, tossing his phone down.

“Marcus said you’re not allowed to look yourself up anymore,” Clarke shouted from the bathroom.

“Right,” Bellamy said back, still trying to shake that tweet out of his head. Some days, he loved the internet. Today was not one of those days.

He settled onto to the bed, now turning on the news to see what all he was missing. He muttered his commentary about all the statements McCreary gave to the press, one of which calling Bellamy out by name. “How am I supposed to sleep at night when this guy is fourth in line to become president?”

“Because Dante Wallace would kill him before he even got close to the presidency,” Clarke snickered as she came back in.

“Not sure that makes me feel better,” Bellamy grumbled to himself. He hadn’t interacted much with the Vice President outside of Bellamy’s swearing in and the few times Wallace had to break a tie in the Senate. But he had never liked him. McCreary was horrible, but at least the world knew that. Wallace had everyone eating out of his hand, charming them into voting against their best interests.

“Can you help me?” she asked when she came back in. He turned off the television before crossing over to her. Clarke had her hair pushed to the side, holding the clasp of her dress with her fingers. His hand brushed hers as he took it, and the contact shouldn’t have jolted him this much. He touched Clarke all the time, after all. His fingers kept grazing her skin as he fixed the clasp, too many times for comfort.

He shook his head as he broke away. It was probably just a combination of reading that tweet and sharing a bed with Clarke last night. It made things seem too intimate when all he was doing was helping her with a clasp on her dress.

“You okay?” she asked as she let her hair fall back behind her shoulder. He got a better look at her, a bit overwhelmed by how beautiful she looked. Her dark lashes batted a few times as she waited for his answer, and he eventually remembered to respond.

“Just a little nervous,” he admitted.

“Want to talk about it?” Clarke stepped closer to straighten his tie, apparently unaware that her close proximity had his thoughts all twisted and jumbled.

“No,” he lied. Her face fell for half a second before her guard went back up again, and he felt guilty. But he couldn’t talk about it.

He couldn’t tell her because she’d ask why he was so on edge around her. And he couldn’t exactly admit it was because there was a small part of him that wanted it to be real. The same part of him that had to actively stop himself from kissing her. The part that looked at photos of them late at night when he couldn’t fall asleep. The part of him that let her words of encouragement echo in his ears when his Washington life became too much. The part of him that absolutely adored her.

 

* * *

 

Nathan Miller was his saving grace tonight. He hadn’t seen his old friend since last Christmas, and he was all too happy to see a friendly face at the gala. Bellamy didn’t have a lot of friends, even fewer who weren’t tangled up in the politics of it. “So, Clarke Griffin, huh?” Miller said as soon as Clarke got pulled away for a dance.

“Don’t start,” Bellamy snorted, leaning back in his chair.

“How the hell did you pull that off? And how long until she figures out she’s too good for you?” he teased, and Bellamy hit his shoulder. “I’m kidding!”

“No, she is too good for me,” Bellamy smirked, and it was a little too true. Clarke had this incredible ability to seem like she belonged anywhere she went. And Bellamy, even in his home state, struggled to feel like he belonged in this world. On paper, he did. He was a senator, he knew the issues, and he had a passion for serving in public office. But he didn’t know how to play the game. Clarke did. She knew how to work a room. Hell, they had only been here an hour and he’s pretty sure they’ve spoken to everyone in here already because of her.

“Has O met her yet?” Miller asked, and Bellamy shook his head. “Have you even seen your sister lately?” Bellamy shook his head again. “I hear she’s in Oregon now.”

“Huh,” Bellamy tried to say with indifference, hiding the sting. He heard she was in Texas last, but that was so long ago. He wasn’t surprised she had moved elsewhere. Just surprised that he seemed to be the last to know about it. “So, where is Jackson?”

“You think I’d bring my boyfriend to this? Half the people in this room are anti gay marriage,” he snorted. “But you’ll see him this Christmas, right?”

“Of course,” Bellamy sighed. Thank God he still had Miller back home, otherwise he would have no one to spend Christmas with. “Don’t think Clarke will be here for that, though. She usually spends Christmas with the President.”

“That’s so cool.”

“You don’t even like our president,” Bellamy chuckled.

“Still cool,” he shrugged. “And now, I’m gonna steal a dance with someone who spends Christmas with the President.” Before Bellamy had the chance to groan, Miller jumped up from his seat and darted toward Clarke, who seemed delighted to dance with him next. A smile crept to Bellamy’s lips as he watched them, knowing that whatever just made Clarke laugh was something Miller said at Bellamy’s expense. He had to admit that Clarke looked beautiful out there, damn near impossible to look away from like always.

As he watched them talk and dance together, he thought about Clarke’s uncanny ability to seem like she belongs everywhere… even in Bellamy’s life. She fit so seamlessly into his world, like she had always been there. Maybe the reason he was struggling so much with Clarke being here is that she was the one piece of his world that had no intention of leaving. If everything went according to plan, he’d be engaged to her within the year, married soon after that. She would spend her life with him, when everyone else seemed to leave him behind or only want him around when he was useful. There was an odd kind of certainty there, one that finally made his nerves quiet down.

He remembered Clarke telling him more about her parents last month, about how their marriage worked. It started off similarly to their relationship, though it started when Jake and Abby were a bit younger. Clarke said they grew to love each other… that after a while, it stopped feeling like an arrangement. Bellamy wondered if that was what was happening to him, if he was growing to love Clarke.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would one day if he hadn’t started already. Loving Clarke seemed to be inevitable for Bellamy. This would be real for him.

Once their dance was finished, Bellamy stole Clarke from Miller. “So, what did he tell you?” Bellamy teased as he pulled Clarke in for their dance. He didn’t feel as on edge as he had all weekend, relaxing into the idea that he was growing to love her. It just took a little while to get comfortable with, like everything else with Clarke.

“Nothing,” she replied, not quite looking at Bellamy. “Just that he’s happy for us.” Despite the smile on her lips, there was something cold in her tone, distant almost. That wasn’t like Clarke.

He pulled her in closer, his hand firm on her back as they swayed to the music. His cheek was pressed to hers, his lips right by her ear. “You okay?” he whispered.

“Of course,” she replied, not missing a beat.

“Okay.” He didn’t think she meant that, but he knew better than to press her on it. When Clarke didn’t want to talk, she wouldn’t talk. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, lingering a bit longer than he should. “You look beautiful tonight,” he told her.

His heart pounded as he waited for her to say something back. He couldn’t get past the fear that something was wrong, that he did something wrong. “Thank you,” she finally whispered before resting her head on his shoulder. He pressed another kiss to her cheek without thinking about it.

 

* * *

 

Clarke was quiet the whole way back to the hotel and was on her phone as soon as they got back into their room. “Everything okay?” he asked again because he couldn’t help but wonder if he did something wrong.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just work,” she explained, a bit rattled. He nodded along as he ducked into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He kept going over the weekend, trying to figure out what he could have done wrong. But he couldn’t think of anything that would cause her to distance herself so suddenly. But maybe her head was somewhere else and this wasn’t on him.

After he changed and brushed his teeth, he stepped out to see Clarke furrowing her brows at the screen. He decided not to push it, opting instead to just crawl into bed. A few seconds later, Clarke grabbed her things and headed to the bathroom.

The text chime went off once… twice… four times. “Bell, can you bring me my phone?” she called out through the bathroom. He rolled out of bed to grab it, the top two texts being from her mother and from Kane. The preview from her mom’s was about meeting up tomorrow, which he didn’t know anything about. And Kane’s _we’ll run the numbers and see how to tackle it_ felt ominous.

He slid the phone into her hand before climbing back in bed. Clarke stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later wearing an oversized t-shirt, her hair thrown up into a bun. She crawled into bed beside him without saying a word. Finally, Bellamy blurted out, “Are we okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” she waved him off.

“You sure? Because if I did something or—”

“Bellamy,” she interrupted, sitting upright to look right at him. “You’ve never done anything wrong in your life, okay? I just have a crazy next few weeks coming up and I’m a bit overwhelmed just thinking about it, I promise.”

“Okay,” he whispered, and he started to believe her. But then when she lied down, she was turned away from him toward the wall. And that worried feeling settled back in his chest. Clarke seemed as far away from him as she could possibly be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, Bellamy is gone and that's just a fact at this point. See y'all Monday with my favorite chapter.


	6. Something Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd just like to thank everyone for their kind wishes about my dad's recovery. He had surgery today and it went really well, thank God. He might not be home for Thanksgiving and things are still really crazy in my personal life because of all this, but it really means a lot that so many of you have reached out to me about it. Thanks again.
> 
> Secondly, I'm sorry to say that I've fallen really far behind on my writing schedule because of this. I'm hoping to get a lot done in the next few days, and if that's the case, I'll still post an update on Thursday. But if I can't, then I'll get one up next Monday. I'm still not happy with how chapter seven looks, so I might need the extra time to get it right. 
> 
> And finally, thanks again for all the comments and kudos so far! You guys have been really great and I appreciate it! Love y'all!!
> 
> Anyway, this is my favorite chapter I've written so far so I hope you guys like it!!

“I need to know that we still have your vote,” McCreary hissed, blocking Bellamy from the stairwell. “Do we?”

“Let me think on it,” Bellamy said as calmly as he could, though he wanted to punch McCreary for cornering him like this. Diana Sydney wasn’t the kind of judge Bellamy would want on the Supreme Court, but Tennessee voters wanted her. When it came down to it, there was nothing damning enough about her stances to keep Bellamy from voting her in. She wasn’t as radical as other nominees, nor did she take hard stances against any of his main causes. So, last week he informed McCreary that they had his vote.

But that was before that CNN reporting proved that Sydney lied under oath about one of her more high-profile cases. The implication of witness tampering was already a concern, but that reporting showed that she knew about it… potentially was even paid off to ignore it.

“Think hard, Blake,” McCreary said calmly. “If you vote against the confirmation, it’ll be what we use in the attack ads against you in a few years.”

When Bellamy tried to move around him, McCreary gripped his arm. “Get your arm off me,” Bellamy growled, and he swears McCreary smirked at him. He jerked his arm away before heading up the stairs, bracing himself for the reporters waiting to swarm him.

He was out of breath by the time he slammed his office door shut behind him. He powerwalked as fast as he could as he ignored reporters’ questions. “I’m fucked either way, aren’t I?” he huffed.

“And getting more fucked by the second,” Murphy muttered, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“More and more of her cases are being examined. We’re up to three that look shady as hell,” Monty explained, and Bellamy fell into the seat beside them, rubbing his temples. “The good news is that you might not be the deciding vote.”

“Then, why the hell is McCreary cornering me?”

“Because two members of his own party haven’t confirmed which way they’re voting,” Monty explained. Bellamy could hear Kane in the other room fielding calls, his voice frantic. “I say you wait.”

“And what does Kane say?” Bellamy sighed, knowing that whatever Kane decided would probably be how he voted.

“To vote yes since voting no will really fuck you over back home,” Murphy grumbled. Bellamy hated that answer. He already felt uneasy about voting for Sydney just for the boost in his approval ratings, but it felt worse now.

Bellamy pushed himself up from his chair, pulling his phone from his pocket. He waited until Monty and Murphy started arguing again before dialing Clarke. His eyes fell shut as he rested his forehead against his desk, listening to her phone ring. She probably wasn’t who he should be reaching out to, but he missed her. And he felt closer to her on the phone these days than he did in person since Clarke had her guard up around him… and he still didn’t know why. He figured out Kane was running the numbers on how it would look for Bellamy if Clarke went with Jaha to the cemetery on the anniversary of Wells’ death. Her meeting with her mom was a standard check in about Abby Griffin’s health. But none of it explained why the Clarke Griffin he had gotten so comfortable with just disappeared on him after a dance with Nathan Miller.

“Hey,” she answered, slightly out of breath. He felt guilty for even calling her. She was overworked on her current case, which was bad enough on its own. Throw in that the anniversary of Wells’ death was in just a few days, and she was struggling. He wanted to leave her alone for the week, to not put any more of his stress onto her for once. But she was the only person he could talk it out with, the only one that wasn’t going to steamroll him into a decision. He needed her.

“Hey, sorry. I know this isn’t a good week for you but—”

“I know. I’ve been watching the news,” Clarke cut him off.

“McCreary cornered me about it. I think they don’t have the votes,” Bellamy explained. “What do I do?”

“I can’t tell you what to do,” she sighed.

“Sure, you can,” he snorted. “You love bossing me around.”

“Bell, the reason I chose not to be a politician is because I didn’t want to make these kinds of decisions. I’d rather just tell you when to kiss me or which tie to wear.”

The playful tone in her voice was enough to trigger his smile. “Which tie should I wear to distract my constituents enough that they don’t notice how I vote?”

“That hideous one Marcus gave to you. But I hid it so that you couldn’t find it and I’d never have to see it again,” she replied, and he chuckled into the wood of his desk.

“Okay, what would you do?”

“I would have run for mayor, then governor, and skipped all this Senate bullshit,” she replied.

“Clarke.”

“Okay, I’m no Marcus Kane, but here is how I see it. Your conscience is telling you that voting to confirm is wrong. Diana Sydney is a corrupt judge, let me tell you. The dirt is just going to keep coming out. But you will never convince your constituents that this isn’t just a spin by the liberal media. They disagree with what your conscience is telling you to do.”

“Which means I will lose my office.”

“And that would be a shame, because people like you should be in office, Bellamy. You have such a big heart, and you really do want what is best for your constituents. So, you could argue that voting against your conscience is the right thing to do because it would enable you to do more good. You have more agency to help people as a senator than as a private citizen.”

“That’s a very Kane way of arguing things, Clarke,” he sighed.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t judge you if you decided that was the right thing to do. It’s kind of an impossible decision, Bellamy.”

“My gut says I should vote against it. What happens if I lose my reelection because of it?” His door pushed open, and Bellamy snapped his head up to see Kane gesture for him to get off the phone. Bellamy mouthed _Clarke_ to him, and Kane gestured for him to wrap it up before shutting the door.

“You lose your reelection,” she replied. “You go home to Nashville and come up with a new plan. Maybe try running for mayor. It’s a liberal city so you could actually win. Maybe go on to be governor. I could finally own a pair of cowboy boots.”

“Oh, you’re coming too?” he chuckled.

“Obviously, since I’m going to be married to you by then,” she replied. The certainty with which she said that took a weight off his chest, made him feel a pound or two lighter. It was a reassurance that even if it all went to hell, he wouldn’t lose everything. At the very least, he wouldn’t be all alone again. “I could be a Nashville mayor’s wife. Walk around in cowboy boots, go to the CMA’s every year, be next door neighbors with Keith Urban…”

“Okay, I don’t have to be voted out of Senate for you to do any of that, you know that right? You have enough money to do all of that right this second,” he teased. “What is Plan C?”

“You become my trophy husband. You’re pretty enough for it. So, no matter what, I’m gonna be just fine,” she giggled.

“Well, that’s a relief,” he snorted.

“But Bellamy,” she said more seriously, and he swallowed. “This is your decision to make. No one else’s. Listen to Marcus, obviously. Listen to Monty and Raven.”

“And Murphy.”

“Eh, debatable,” she teased. “But do what you think you have to. I got your back either way.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. He could see Kane’s shadow under the door, pacing back and forth nervously… just waiting for Bellamy to hang up. “Are you doing okay? You know I worry about you.”

“I’m fine. Just sleep deprived,” Clarke sighed. He could hear her guard go back up in her voice. A quiet distance put up the second he asked about her. “I will be fine provided that Thursday goes smoothly. Don’t worry about me.”

That was easier said than done. Clarke had been off since they returned from Memphis. She showed up everywhere she needed to, said and did all the right things… but it didn’t feel like she was really there. This phone call was the first time he felt close to Clarke since that trip, and he missed it. He missed her.

“Call me if you need me, okay? I will happily take the distraction,” he promised.

“Bell, hang up on me and get back to work,” she giggled, and he followed her order. As soon as he hung up, Kane barged in with the numbers.

“You need to vote to confirm,” Kane explained, and Bellamy dropped his head to the desk again.

 

* * *

 

It had been Bellamy’s hope that the news would be so focused on the confirmation that no cameras would catch Clarke and Jaha going to the cemetery to visit Wells. But there it was, interrupting an expert debating how Bellamy would vote to show the two of them trying to get a private moment to grieve. This video was from hours ago since it was night now, which meant they had probably shown this throughout the day, broadcasting their pain to the American people. Then again, Bellamy was fairly certain this was Richard Walters’ doing since Jaha had a reelection coming up. A grieving politician gets higher approval ratings. To people like Clarke’s grandfather, that’s all that matters. But it made Bellamy sick.

He sent Clarke a quick text, asking how she was doing, though he was sure she’d insist she was fine and he should instead focus on this decision.

The door to his office creaked open, and Diyoza popped her head in. “Sorry, but Maya wasn’t here,” she said before shutting the door behind her. Bellamy put the TV on mute before letting out a sigh. “Glad I caught you before you left.”

“What do you want?” Bellamy grumbled. He was not in the mood to have another senator bullying him into voting their way.

“I want to make a deal with you,” she said, striding over to take a seat.

“To get my vote for Sydney?”

“To get your vote against Sydney,” she clarified, and Bellamy cocked his head to the side. “I wouldn’t survive a vote to confirm her. Nor could I stomach it.” Bellamy knew that was true. While Diyoza’s loyalties lied with the Republican party, she was in the reverse situation as Bellamy back home. A conservative senator from a liberal state.

“So, why do you care how I vote?”

“I got Roan to vote against, which means that if I also vote against but you vote for, we’ll get a tie. Wallace will break it, and Sydney goes to the Supreme Court,” she explained. “I know you don’t want her in there, and neither do I.”

“Do you have any idea what I am going to lose if I vote against Sydney?” Bellamy asked. “Fuck.” He buried his face in his hands, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep. He had been back and forth on this for days, and only had until tomorrow morning to come to a decision.

“Which is why I’m offering you a blank check. Whatever favor you might need from me… it’s yours if you vote against.” Bellamy pressed his lips together, thinking it over. A favor from Diyoza could come in handy down the road. “This you and your sister?” she asked, picking up the frame from his desk.

“Yeah,” he muttered, and Diyoza kept her eyes on the picture.

“Huh,” she mumbled, furrowing her brows. Bellamy’s eyes flitted toward the TV screen in the corner, seeing Pike bashing McCreary on the news “So, you in?”

“Don’t know yet,” he muttered, pushing himself up from his seat. He made his way to the door, opening it so Diyoza would get the damn point. She narrowed her eyes at him before putting the frame back on his desk.

“Look me in the eye and say you want McCreary to get his way tomorrow,” she said as she pushed herself up from the chair. “You might hate him more than I do.”

“Good night, Senator Diyoza,” he snapped, and she rolled her eyes on the way out of his office.

 

* * *

 

Clarke hadn’t returned any of his texts or calls, so he drove to her apartment. He knocked on the door a few times, but no answer. With a sigh, he grabbed the key from under her doormat and let himself inside. “Clarke?” he called out as he flipped on her lights. He spotted a corkscrew on her counter but no bottle of wine, so that wasn’t a great sign.

He made his way toward her bedroom, knocking quietly on the door. “Clarke,” he said.

“In here,” she called out. He opened her door, not seeing her in the mess that was her room. “Down here,” she clarified, and Bellamy stepped around her bed to see her lying on the floor beside it. A nearly empty bottle of wine sat on her nightstand, and if that weren’t enough evidence she was drunk, her giddy smile when she saw him was. “Bell!”

“How much wine did you have?” he sighed as he tugged off his jacket, tossing it on her bed.

“A lot,” she replied, and he crouched down on the floor beside her. With a sigh, she moved to rest her head on his lap.

“Tried calling you.”

“Don’t know where my phone in,” she mumbled. “What happened? How are you voting?”

“Clarke, we are not talking about that right now,” he said, and she scrunched her face up at him. With a sigh, he reached down to run his fingers through her hair, which made the tension in her face disappear. “Today was hard for you, I know,” he told her.

“Wells was my best friend. My only friend.”

“You have other friends, Clarke,” he had to point out.

“Not like Wells,” she whispered. Right when Bellamy tried to open his mouth, Clarke started to sit up, though she needed Bellamy’s help to actually do it without falling over. “No, listen,” she slurred. “I loved him. Maybe not like I was supposed to, but I did.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“I don’t… I don’t love a lot of people,” she stuttered out, her eyes falling. That he could understand. Clarke had a pretty isolated life with very few people who really knew her. It could be hard to love someone after all that… something Bellamy kept reminding himself.  “It’s hard to… it’s just that he was the last real thing I had left. My dad was dead, and my mom was falling apart. Then, Wells died. And all I was left with were people who use me. I just miss having something real. Or being real.” She blinked up at him, tears catching in her eyelashes. “I’m not making sense, am I?”

“You’re making sense,” he reassured, rubbing his hand up her back. “I miss it too.” He missed it more than he cared to admit. He missed having his sister to take care of or his mother to rely on. He yearned for the days when he had a support system that wasn’t dependent on his approval ratings… that were just there because they cared about him. The only real thing he had was Clarke, and lately, that felt uncertain. How he felt about her was real, but how she saw him was in question.

“Sometimes I think I’ve found something real,” she murmured, now looking off at her window. “And I just wanna hold onto it, protect it… even though I can’t even tell if it is real. I’m not sure what real feels like anymore. I’ve been pretending my whole life so I don’t even know what real looks like.” The tears started to fall, and his chest panged at the sight. He never saw Clarke cry. No, Clarke was strong, stoic… composed. But right now, she was breaking and all he wanted to do was hold her together.

“Come here,” he sighed, pulling her toward him.

“You don’t have to,” she mumbled into his shirt. “There’s no one watching.” He swallowed, wincing at her choice of words.

“I want to,” he corrected, cradling the back of her head as she cried into his shirt. “I know I’m no substitute for Wells. No one ever could be. But you need to know you’re not alone. You have me. You can tell me anything, just like I can tell you anything,” he promised. _I can be real for you_ , he wanted to tell her.

He clenched his eyes shut as she sobbed, pulling his arms tight around her as he rocked her. Bellamy wasn’t sure what else he could say to comfort her. He had only known her a few months and had yet to learn how to reassure her. Most of their time together was Clarke taking care of him, building up his confidence or answering his questions before he had the chance to ask them. She had made his struggle to be taken seriously in the Senate easier, helped him make sense of Kane’s confusing logic. And even as she was falling apart this week, she still helped Bellamy.

And this whole time, she felt alone. That broke his heart because he would do whatever he had to for Clarke. He adored her. She was a missing piece of the puzzle that put him at ease every time she walked through the door. He wanted to help her as much as she helped him. He just didn’t know how.

Eventually, the crying ceased. The only way he could tell she was still awake was because she was tracing his collar with her fingers. “How are you going to vote tomorrow?” Clarke whispered.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. If he confirms, he’ll have to live with that decision and feel the weight of every close Supreme Court ruling on his shoulders for the rest of his life. If he doesn’t, he will probably lose his office, potentially never getting a chance at another one.

“Yeah, you do,” she murmured. “You know what’s right.”

“Clarke, you know it’s not that simple.”

“What I know,” she slurred, pulling her head up to look at him, “is that Thelonious sold his soul to get his office, and it wasn’t worth it. He got everything he wanted, and now he’s miserable… and that tells me that how you get there matters. And I know you know that, because you’re smart and you have such a good heart.” Her hand slipped to rest over his heart as she said it, as if to emphasize her point.

A smile crept onto his lips as Clarke tucked herself into his neck. “You know how smart you are?” he whispered.

“Mhmm,” she hummed sleepily.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed,” he announced, and a whine escaped her lips. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he picked her up, mumbling quiet protests as he carried her to the other side of the bed. As she tried to tug her shoes off, Bellamy caught glimpse of a photo on her nightstand. “This you and Wells?” he asked. They had to be five or six years old, playing with a trainset on the floor of Jake Griffin’s office. Wells was making some goofy face at the camera while Clarke showed off her bright smile, albeit missing a few teeth. They looked so happy.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, falling back onto her pillow after completely forgetting the other shoe. “Wells would have loved you.” He looked over at her, wondering if she really meant that.

Bellamy sat down on the side of the bed, gently pulling the other shoe off. “I would have loved him too,” he sighed. When he turned back to look at her, she reached out for his hand.

“Don’t leave,” she murmured, fighting to keep her eyes open.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep, okay?” he asked, and she nodded into the pillow. He reached over to turn off the lamp. “And how about tomorrow night once I’m done being hounded by the press, we break out the wine and watch Snapped?” She mumbled something incoherent in response, her voice sounding heavy with sleep. So, he just ran his fingers through her hair, waiting patiently until she finally drifted off.

She seemed at peace once she was asleep. Not forcing a smile or working her way through a problem. He wished he could see her like this more. He wished he knew how to help her find this peace while awake. Clarke Griffin had been through hell and was still fighting. If anyone deserved to find peace, it was her.

He pushed her hair out of her face before pressing a kiss to her cheek. As he pulled away, he caught the ghost of a smile on her lips. And for the first time in days, Bellamy felt like he would be okay.

 

* * *

 

“How did I come off?” Bellamy asked, breathless as he came into his office. Reporter after reporter cornered him as he left the Senate floor, meaning Bellamy had to explain his vote against Sydney far too many times.

“Like a one term senator,” Murphy grumbled before Raven smacked the back of his head.

“Well, I wouldn’t have had to make that vote if McCreary wasn’t pushing the vote up despite all the evidence against her,” Bellamy snapped. “And I explained that to the reporters.”

“Which is only feeding the ‘McCreary v. Blake feud’ story, which really doesn’t help you back home,” Monty jumped in. Before Bellamy could argue, he heard his door slam shut. He glanced over to see Kane taking a deep breath. Without a word, he gestured with his head toward Bellamy’s office.

The two of them settled in his office, the air thick with tension. Finally, Kane broke the silence. “I respect your decision,” he said. “But it will cost you. You’ll have to concede on a lot going forward if you want to be reelected.”

“I know,” Bellamy replied before letting his head fall into his hands. He was exhausted, worn out, and not too hopeful about his career in Washington anymore. But he didn’t hate himself for his vote. In fact, it was the first time he felt like himself on that Senate floor since he got here.

“Take this weekend to rest, and do what you can to avoid the press,” he sighed. “We’ll keep running the numbers and—”

“Sorry,” Monty huffed as he ran into the office, grabbing the remote from Bellamy’s desk.

“What is going on now?” Kane groaned.

“Clarke is on MSNBC right now,” Raven shouted, and finally Monty got it up on the screen. Bellamy’s eyes widened in a panic when he recognized Clarke’s firm in the background, meaning a news crew literally tracked Clarke down at work to ask her about Bellamy’s vote.

“But don’t you think—” a reporter tried to get out.

“I think he voted his conscience, and I’m proud of him,” Clarke interrupted. “I’m sure that he has more than explained his position to the press, so I’m not sure what further insight I could provide for you. I’m sorry.”

“Are you aware that Senator McCreary cited one of your father’s campaign speeches in one of the statements—”

For a brief second, Bellamy caught a slight flicker of anger behind Clarke’s eyes. But quickly, she covered it up, remaining cool and calm in front of the cameras. “Senator McCreary has no business using my father’s words to legitimize the mockery he made of the confirmation process this week,” Clarke snapped. Bellamy gripped onto his desk, holding his breath as he watched. “If my father were alive today, he would be ashamed of what his party tried to do on the Senate floor. Any responsible, ethical person would call for an investigation in light of the evidence against Diana Sydney. Instead, he tried to bully his way through it. I’m just grateful that Senator Blake, Senator Diyoza, and Senator Kingsley didn’t give into bipartisan pressure and voted against confirming a corrupt justice. Senator McCreary and his friends could learn something from them about serving this country honorably.”

Bellamy sat there, slack jawed, watching Clarke dismiss the reporters as she went back inside. Everyone in his office was silent, unable to form words after watching Clarke rip McCreary limb from limb.

Murphy broke the silence. “So, that’s why you pushed so hard for Clarke Griffin, right?” he asked Kane, who was still wide-eyed and covering his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Raven murmured.

“How is that reading back in Tennessee?” Murphy asked excitedly. He and Monty rushed out into the main room, talking too quickly for Bellamy to follow.

Finally, Kane turned to look at Bellamy. “What are you thinking?” Bellamy asked.

“That I made the right call when I dragged you to that courthouse to meet Clarke Griffin,” he smirked.

“You did,” Bellamy admitted, though he didn’t need this interview to tell him that. He already knew.

He was about to say something else when he heard the door to the main room swing open. “Blake!” he heard McCreary shout, and Bellamy jumped to his feet and sprinted out of his office to find a seething McCreary glaring at him by the door. Maya had wide, panicked eyes, and the other three were all frozen in silence.

“Did you have an appointment?” Bellamy asked.

“What the hell is your little girlfriend trying?” he growled.

“Are you referring to the highlights she just got in her hair? Because honestly, I think it makes her eyes pop,” Murphy snorted, but McCreary’s murderous eyes didn’t leave Bellamy’s.

“Think he’s referring to Clarke’s constitutional right to call him a dick,” Raven said, and McCreary’s jaw twitched. “It’s not like she’s a politician, so why does it matter?”

“Because she’s Clarke Griffin,” McCreary hissed. He took a step toward Bellamy, and Kane stepped between them.

“Senator McCreary, we had no idea Clarke was going to be approached by the press,” Kane tried to explain, but McCreary’s eyes were still fixed on Bellamy. Bellamy nodded his head toward his office, silently gesturing for McCreary to follow. “Bellamy.”

“It’s fine,” Bellamy whispered, keeping his eyes on McCreary as he stepped into his office. The others all exchanged panicked looks as he closed the door behind him. “Kane is right. I didn’t know Clarke would say anything to the press. That was all her decision.”

“That’s bullshit. You knew you were going to be roasted by the media for the stunt you pulled today, so you asked your girlfriend to make hell for me.”

“Even if that was true, what could you even do about it?” Bellamy snapped, and McCreary’s eyes narrowed. “You keep attacking me, and I’m sure Clarke will keep coming after you. And that’s your worst nightmare, huh? Finally, someone you can’t bully because if you attack her, Richard Walters pull you out of this office faster than Sydney crashed and burned this week because Clarke is his only grandchild.”

“Blake—”

“You lost! Get over it,” Bellamy shouted. “Act like a goddamn adult and get the fuck over it. And you will never come into my office with a temper tantrum like this again, got it?” Bellamy swung his door open again, gesturing for him to get out.

McCreary pressed his lips together, still looking like he wanted to ring Bellamy’s neck. He brushed past him, leaning in to whisper, “You think I don’t know how to deal with Clarke Griffin?” A smirk formed on his lips as he strutted toward the main door, everyone’s eyes on him. “Watch yourself, Blake.”


	7. Lethal Combination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry I didn't get the update out last Thursday, but I got super sick (and I'm still sick but less delirious now) and frankly was too out of it to even realize Thursday had happened. 
> 
> Anyway, glad you guys liked last chapter. It was my favorite to write (so far because there's one coming up that I'm sooo pumped for omg). Hopefully, you'll like this one just as much. However, I'm only getting one update out this week since this Thursday is Thanksgiving here in the States and starting Wednesday I've got a wild week ahead of me. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for all the love so far, guys! You're the best!

Bellamy walked out of the Senate Chamber with Roan, laughing along as he resumed his story about the reporter that accidentally hit him with the mic. He could hear someone powerwalking behind them, and he prayed it wasn’t McCreary wanting to talk to him.

“Blake,” McCreary called out, and Bellamy froze with a groan. Roan stopped with him, letting out an annoyed huff. Bellamy turned his head to look at him, not eager to speak with him after he threatened Clarke. McCreary had left Bellamy alone after Clarke set him on fire with one little interview. But Bellamy should have known that it wouldn’t last. “If you don’t mind,” McCreary snapped at Roan, who rolled his eyes as he walked off.

“And to think I thought you got being a dick all out of your system this morning,” Bellamy huffed, continuing his walk to his office.

“I don’t have time to be nice right now,” he muttered, walking in step with Bellamy. “I have a list of prospective nominees from the White House.”

“Good for you.”

“I am here to work with you, Blake,” he snapped, and Bellamy jerked his head in McCreary’s direction. “You and Diyoza since I know about your little agreement. I want to know which ones you two would support so I don’t get blind sighted again.”

“That was your own damn fault, and you—”

“Bellamy!” he heard Clarke call out.

“Hey,” he grinned as she walked up to them, a huge smile on her face. She normally didn’t visit him here since she was too slammed with her cases. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before pulling away. She leaned into his side as she glanced over at McCreary, and Bellamy kept his hand at her back… feeling tense at the idea of Clarke being in the same room as McCreary after those vague threats were made against her.

“Clarke Griffin, it’s good to finally meet you face to face,” McCreary said through gritted teeth, extending his hand out to her.

She stared at him for a beat, leaving his hand dangling in the air for a moment too long before shaking it. “Oh, Senator McCreary, of course,” she finally said with a soft smile. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You seem so much shorter on screen.”

Bellamy pressed his lips together to suppress his smirk when McCreary’s stoic expression broke. Sometimes, Bellamy forgot that Clarke was coached by Marcus Kane since her childhood, meaning she was an expert on how to verbally lodge a dagger into someone while smiling.

“I need to borrow him for a moment, if you don’t mind,” she said sweetly, pulling Bellamy by the hand toward his office. McCreary opened his mouth to protest, but Bellamy shot him a warning look.

“Thank you,” he whispered right into Clarke’s ear as they made their way down the hall. “But maybe lay off him.”

“I’m not scared of him,” she snorted. Clarke hadn’t taken the threats McCreary made seriously, blowing it off as a scare tactic.

“Clarke,” he sighed as she squeezed his hand. No matter what Clarke told him, he was going to panic about McCreary’s threat.

They both waved to Maya as they walked in, though she was on the phone with someone. Bellamy lead toward his office before changing the subject. “So, I was thinking.”

“I’ve never heard a senator say that,” Clarke teased before shutting his office door behind them.

He ducked his head down, stifling his laughter. “Clarke,” he said seriously. She shot him a teasing grin before sitting down by his desk. “Would you want to come over for dinner tonight?” She cocked her head in confusion, her brows furrowed. Usually, they only spent time together when it was public so that it would be witnessed. “It’s been a crazy last few weeks, and I thought this could be a fun way to blow off some steam. I’ll make you dinner, and I assure you I’m a very good cook.”

The way his stomach clenched as he asked her made him feel like he was asking her on a date. And in a way he sort of was. He had been thinking about this for a while now, had been wanting a night where the two of them could be normal people. Plus, he wanted to see Clarke more. The evenings he spent with her were the highlights of his week, and he found himself counting down the days until he saw her next. And after everything she drunkenly confessed to him, he thought she could use this too. Something real amidst all the lies. “And I thought it could be a thank you for what you did to McCreary,” he added in nervously.

Clarke opened her mouth to speak before shutting it again. Her brows were furrowed as she thought, though he couldn’t gage how she felt about his offer. Finally, she looked up at him. “What about another night?”

“Oh, yeah,” he stuttered out. “Sure. Sorry, didn’t realize you already had plans tonight.”

“No, we have plans tonight. That’s why I’m here. We’ve been invited to dinner,” she said a little too carefully.

“Who invited us?” he asked, leaning against his desk.

“President Jaha,” she whispered, though it almost sounded like a question. Like she didn’t know how he would respond.

Bellamy blinked a few times, not sure he heard her right. “The president?” he confirmed, and she nodded. “Is there some kind of event—”

“No,” she interrupted, and he swallowed. “It will just be the three of us. He called me directly, informing me that he wants to get to know you.”

“Oh,” was all Bellamy could think to say. He probably should have anticipated this at some point. After all, Bellamy was dating Clarke, who Jaha considered family. It was only natural that he would want to meet Bellamy and assess what kind of man he was. But Jaha was the most powerful man in the country. Meeting him under normal circumstances would scare the hell out of Bellamy. Throw in the fact that this is the closest Bellamy will come to a “meet the father” scenario, and he was understandably panicked. “Does… does he know?”

“No,” Clarke clarified as she stood up. “But he might suspect. I mean, I had an arranged engagement with his son. So, he’d naturally suspect that’s what this was.”

“Okay, so… how do we act?”

“Like we always do,” she replied. “He already asked me if this was real, and I told him yes. So, we’re sticking to that.”

Bellamy pressed his lips together and nodded, though he didn’t see the point if Jaha would just assume it was staged anyway. “Why?”

Clarke turned away from Bellamy, leaning against his desk too as she sighed. “Because I could see he wanted it to be real for me,” she whispered. “So, I didn’t have the heart to admit the truth.”

She didn’t look up at him again, instead staring off into the corner of his office. Bellamy reached over to grab her hand, squeezing it lightly until he saw a weak smile form on her lips. “Okay,” he told her. She leaned into him, her head resting on his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, savoring this one quiet moment before he got thrown into the lion’s den. “So, just you and me and the President.”

“Just us three. He invited my mom too, but you know,” she whispered, and he squeezed her hand again. “She’s been doing better, but…”

“It’s probably best for her recovery that she isn’t put in stressful situations, I know.”

“Yeah, especially since politics and the White House were what got her to this point. She and her doctor set Christmas as her goal to get back out there.” He could hear the doubt in her voice.

“Clarke, there is nothing you can do,” he reminded her, and her head popped up to look at him with wide eyes. “She’s doing better, right?”

“Right. She’s been clean for a while this time, but what if—"

“Hey,” he whispered, cupping her cheek. The panic in her eyes was too much for him, and he wished he could make it go away. He wished he could make life a bit gentler for her. Sometimes, he lied awake at night thinking about the series of tragedies that started with her father’s death and ended with Wells’ death… and it made his chest ache to realize how much loss this girl had to go through at such a young age. It was no wonder why she tried to keep her distance… not just from him, but from everyone. If Kane asked her a personal question, she shut it down. From what Bellamy could tell, her closest friend was Zeke, and that’s just because of how long he’s worked for her. She kept the world at arm’s length because every time she has let her guard down has led to heartbreak. “Everything is going to be okay,” he promised.

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows, and after a beat, she rested her forehead against his chest.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy had too many instructions in his head. Between Kane’s lecturing about his behavior and Raven’s list of approved conversation topics, his head was spinning. There were etiquette rules that he couldn’t keep straight and logistical issues that he couldn’t wrap his head around. And all Bellamy could think right now was that none of his ties were right for dinner with the president.

“Bell?” he heard Clarke call out, and he let out a sigh. He must not have heard her knocking.

“In here,” he shouted, testing the red tie with the suit he picked. When he heard the door creak open, he turned to see Clarke in a blue dress, the kind that made her eyes pop. “You look beautiful,” he told her, and a small smile crept onto her lips.

“Thank you,” she replied as she approached. “You look like you can’t decide what to wear.”

“Unlike you, I’ve never had dinner at the White House,” he reminded. “Do that thing where you boss me around.” Though, he wasn’t sure why he bothered saying that… she was already digging through his closet.

“This one is my favorite,” she announced, pulling out one of his gray suits.

“You have a favorite?” he chuckled.

“I have opinions on everything. I don’t know why you’re surprised,” she teased as she went through his ties. Finally, she turned around with a dark blue tie in hand. He rolled his eyes as he took it from her, and she made her way out so he could get dressed. “It’s going to be fine,” she called out through the door.

“I know,” he sighed as he changed into the other suit.

“Bellamy.”

“You can’t blame me for getting in my own head about this.”

“Think of it just like getting to know me. You were nervous as hell and then it got easier. You don’t get nervous anymore,” she explained, and he bit down on his lip. He still got nervous, though now it was for an entirely different reason. “You’ll relax as soon as you meet him. I promise.”

“You promise?” he asked as he opened the door to let her back in.

“I promise,” she repeated, smiling at him reassuringly. It wasn’t the forced smile she had out in public, but the real one that she reserved for when it was just them. He adored that smile.

Bellamy tried to tie his tie, but his hands were fumbling too much. Without a word, Clarke stepped up to tie it for him. She was close enough that he could smell her shampoo and hint of perfume. His eyes fell to her lips, fighting the urge to kiss her. He shouldn’t kiss her. He knew that. The last thing he wanted to do was cross the line with Clarke. What they had was a partnership, a close one… but one that was made under the impression that it might never be romantic.

He wasn’t sure how he ever thought he’d be able to manage that on his part. Clarke was brilliant and beautiful, a lethal combination that had him doomed from the start. And on top of that, she was kind and gentle to him, something he wasn’t used to. She didn’t hold back from telling him she was proud of him or that she believed in him. Most days, her little words of encouragement were the only thing keeping his head up high.

And maybe there was a chance it could be romantic, that they could grow to love each other. He was growing to love her already. But he also knew he couldn’t take that step until he knew she would too.

“He is going to like you,” she whispered as she tightened it. “What is there not to like?”

“The fact that I’m the Democrat who put the final nail in the Diana Sydney coffin?” he snorted, and she playfully hit his shoulder.

“That’s politics. He understands that. Frankly, I don’t think he even wanted Sydney,” she replied.

“Then why did he nominate her?”

“I’m under the impression it was Wallace’s pick. One of the bargaining chips made when he agreed to step out of the race to become Thelonious’ running mate.” Bellamy rolled his eyes, feeling Clarke’s warning glare on him. Right, he needed to get all this out of his system before the most important dinner in his life. “Everything will be fine,” she reiterated.

“You don’t know that.”

“Bellamy Blake,” she said sternly, narrowing her eyes at him. “I decided I liked you within the first twenty seconds of your campaign speech in Smyrna. He will like you too.”

“When did you watch that speech?” he chuckled.

“Five minutes after you and Marcus left the courthouse. I was curious,” she smirked, patting him on the chest. “Like I keep telling you, you’re likeable. People want to listen to you because you inspire them. So, relax. He will love you.”

He blinked a few times, watching her walk back into the living room. Bellamy should be used to Clarke saying things like that to him. She was relentlessly positive about him, yet it surprised him every time. It filled his chest with warmth when she spoke to him like this, like she adored him as much as he adored her.

 

* * *

 

It was hard to get a word in. Jaha was so excited to see her, rambling off questions for her as soon as introductions were made. Bellamy didn’t mind. In fact, it was nice to see that Clarke had a support system outside of Bellamy. Occasionally, he got a comment in, but the entire walk to the residency was mostly filled with the two of them excitedly talking.

When they were seated at dinner, President Jaha directed his attention to Bellamy. “So, Senator Blake, I hear you’re a bit of a history buff?”

“I am. Always have been,” he replied. “My mother would read me stories from Greek Mythology, and I just loved them. When I was older, I read them to my sister.”

“He’s a bit of a nerd,” Clarke teased, nudging him under the table.

“Clarke, I’m not sure you’re allowed to call anyone a nerd. Your obsession with Degas was borderline nerdy,” Jaha teased, and she ducked her head to hide her blush.

“Did you invite us over here just to tease me in front of my boyfriend?” she huffed.

“Obviously. What else are Senator Blake and I going to bond over?” he smirked. This wasn’t quite the President Jaha that he saw on screen. He seemed happier, less like the world rested on his shoulders.

“Please, call me Bellamy,” he insisted. When he glanced over at Clarke, her brows were furrowed as she stared at the seat beside him. Bellamy turned to see what she was looking at, realizing there was a fourth place setting there.

“Is someone else joining us?” Clarke asked, and Jaha’s face immediately turned apologetic.

“Dante overheard you were coming and insisted,” he sighed, and Bellamy’s chest tightened. He was prepared for a dinner when it was just Jaha… but Vice President Wallace was something else altogether. “He will be on his best behavior,” he promised Clarke, whose jaw was clenched.

“Of course,” Clarke replied sweetly, though Bellamy could tell she was livid. She hadn’t told him much about her problems with Wallace, but he had a few ideas. Dante Wallace and Jake Griffin were fierce political rivals back in the day, and things got ugly between them. Kane told Bellamy that the decision on which one of them would be with Republican nominee came down to Richard Walters’ preference, and Wallace had a chip on his shoulder ever since.

“So, Bellamy, how is your sister doing?” President Jaha asked, and Bellamy stuttered out a vague lie, which seemed to appease him. The conversation steered back to Bellamy’s life before Washington, about his time overseas and on the city council. Clarke stayed noticeably quiet during it, her eyes occasionally darting toward the door… an anxious tell he wasn’t used to from her.

When the doors opened, Bellamy got to his feet, though the Vice President beelined toward Clarke. “I haven’t seen you in so long,” Dante told her, pulling her in for a hug.

“It’s been too long,” Clarke replied with a smile. “And this is my boyfriend, Senator Blake.”

“Of course,” he said, walking around the table to greet him. “We met at your swearing in,” Dante said as if he actually remembered Bellamy.

“Excellent to see you again, Mr. Vice President,” Bellamy replied, shaking his hand.

“Hope I didn’t make you all wait too long,” Wallace said as they all took their seats. “I was actually just on the phone with your grandfather, Clarke.” Bellamy’s eyes darted to Clarke, relieved to see that she didn’t have a reaction to that. “He told me he hasn’t met Senator Blake yet.”

“My grandpa is a very busy man,” Clarke said tactfully. “And with his age, making frequent trips to Washington just isn’t as feasible as it used to be. When all our schedules are less full, Bellamy and I will go visit him.” Bellamy could feel Jaha eyeing him carefully, though he didn’t dare make eye contact.

Luckily, that conversation was killed when the first course came out. Jaha and Wallace made some small talk about the conversation with Richard Wallace but didn’t drag Clarke into it, thankfully. By the time they moved onto the second course, Bellamy felt himself relax. But Clarke was on her guard, keeping her eyes on Dante Wallace. Bellamy wanted to know what about him had her so unnerved, what history was there… though Clarke was usually quite secretive about that. Hell, Clarke still hadn’t told him why she agreed to this arrangement with Bellamy.

“Bellamy, will you be spending Christmas in DC?” Jaha asked as they waited for dessert. “If so, you’re welcome to spend it here. Abby usually comes too.”

“And Cage will be here too,” Dante added in as if that were somehow a positive.

“I really would love to take you up on that, but unfortunately, I’ve already arranged to spend Christmas back home,” Bellamy apologized. Though, judging by the creeping smile on Clarke’s lips, that invitation was a great sign. Jaha actually did like him. “But thank you for thinking to include me.”

“Well, perhaps next year,” Jaha replied, though Bellamy didn’t miss the skeptical look in Dante’s eyes. “So, the two of you aren’t spending Christmas together?”

“No, but we are spending New Years together,” Clarke replied, reaching across the table to grab Bellamy’s hand. “I’m making Bell take me to all the touristy places in Nashville, and then we’ll spend midnight downtown.” Clarke was excited about their New Years plan and had been sending him lists of places he had to take her. Her face lit up every time her trip to Nashville came up. He was pretty sure she was just relieved to be out of Washington for a few days though.

“That sounds like fun,” Dante said.

“Oh, Clarke, the painting we were talking about last time you were here arrived,” Jaha remembered, and Clarke’s eyes lit up.

“Where is it?” she grinned, and Bellamy felt a smile tug at his own lips.

“I’ll show her while we wait,” Dante said, already pushing himself to his feet. Clarke’s smile dimmed, though she didn’t object. The two of them made their way out of the dining room, keeping their distance from each other as they walked.

When Bellamy turned his head back toward Jaha, he was already staring at him. “So, I understand that Marcus Kane is working for you,” he stated.

“He is. He has been quite the asset,” Bellamy replied, and Jaha nodded.

“I can tell. Your reputation is growing stronger by the day,” he mused, resting his elbows on the table. “You were already quite the impressive young man.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bellamy said.

“But I am not going to lie to you. I was hoping Clarke had gotten out of politics for good. We all were,” he sighed. Bellamy was going to ask who the _we_ was, but he was fairly certain it was Jaha and Clarke’s mother.

“I’m not sure why you are telling me that. This seems like a conversation you should have with her,” Bellamy said as tactfully as he could, and a small smile formed on the President’s lips.

“I did, and I imagine that Dante is currently trying to talk Clarke out of this relationship too, though with a different motivation,” he said, shaking his head. “But she loves you.” Bellamy didn’t blink at those words, and he probably should have. After all, it was the first time he heard them. It shouldn’t surprise him that Clarke told Jaha she loved Bellamy. She was trying to sell the lie. But it did surprise him that it took him a beat to remember it was a lie.

“And I love her,” Bellamy replied automatically, the words slipping off his tongue too easily to be a lie. He didn’t have to think about it. He had never practiced that lie. He didn’t have to. Because it wasn’t a lie. The truth didn’t require practice.

It should be a more dramatic realization. A moment where everything clicked in place. But on some level, Bellamy had known. He should have known that night in the diner when he realized he didn’t want to say goodbye to her. He should have known this would be where he’d end up… in love with Clarke Griffin.

“She’s lucky to have you. You keep her centered.”

“You got that backwards,” Bellamy corrected.

“Just be careful,” he sighed. “Anything you do affects her too, and you and I can both agree she’s been through enough.” When Bellamy opened his mouth to speak, Clarke walked back in without the Vice President. “What did you do to Dante?” Jaha sighed.

“He said he had to step out and that we should continue dinner without him,” she shrugged, though there was a smirk on her lips. The President ducked his head, a smile ghosting on his lips as he shook his head. He shot Bellamy a knowing look before looking back at Clarke.

“Sure,” he told her. “Bellamy, you’ll have to keep an eye on this one. She’s always up to something.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clarke replied. Jaha rolled his eyes with a quiet laugh, and the two of them started talking about the new painting. Bellamy kept his eyes on Clarke, noticing how much more at ease she seemed to be now that Dante Wallace was gone.

 

* * *

 

He waited until they were both in his car before asking, “What is the deal with Wallace?”

“I just don’t like him,” Clarke shrugged, looking out her window.

“You don’t just dislike people for no reason.”

“I don’t trust him. Things got ugly when he ran against my dad in the primaries,” she sighed. “And when he ran against Thelonious, he was just as bad.”

“Define bad.”

“According to Zeke, his employee was responsible for the tabloids about me and Wells,” she muttered. Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows, not sure what she was talking about. “The ones saying our wedding was going to be a shot-gun wedding because I was knocked up.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Yeah, that was fun on the campaign trail. My putting on weight didn’t help either,” she huffed, shaking her head. “Wallace is always going out of his way to talk to me about what my father would want for me, as if they were somehow close. My father hated him.”

“That what he said tonight? Jaha mentioned he was probably trying to talk you out of, you know, being with me,” he sighed, keeping his eyes on the road.

“He tried,” Clarke snorted. He stole a glance at her, relieved by her small smile. It wasn’t that he was worried Dante had been successful or anything, but he didn’t like any chance that he could lose Clarke. “Told me that the Jake Griffin would be devastated to have a Democrat in the family, as if my dad wasn’t the closest thing to a Democrat you could get without leaving the GOP.” He nodded along, and finally he felt Clarke put her hand on his knee. “Don’t worry,” she teased. “You’re still stuck with me.”

“Stuck isn’t the word I’d use,” he snorted. “So, did I do okay?” He was pretty sure he did, or at least that Jaha liked him.

“You did great. I, on the other hand, was a royal bitch to the Vice President, but we’re not gonna tell Marcus that,” she giggled. He shook his head, holding back a laugh as he pulled into the parking garage.

“What did you even say to him?” Bellamy asked as he stepped out of the car.

“You want plausible deniability, trust me,” she smirked as she shut the car door. He walked over to her, shaking his head as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Tell me you have wine for me,” she pouted adorably.

A smile formed on his face as he nodded. “I keep a few bottles just for you,” he teased as she linked arms with him.

“I knew I kept you around for a reason,” she giggled, leaning into him. He pressed a kiss to her hair as they made their way inside.

As soon as they were in his apartment, Clarke kicked off her heels, moaning in relief. He made his way into the kitchen, hearing Clarke’s bare feet pad behind him.

They didn’t do this often. They both usually had early mornings or were too tired at the end of the day. There weren’t many nights where Clarke stayed for a drink or two, but it was frequent enough that there was a routine. Frequent enough that Clarke was comfortable enough to sit on the counter while she watched Bellamy pour her glass. Frequent enough that Bellamy knew she was going to guzzle the first glass quickly because that was how wound up she was.

“I thought you said I did well,” Bellamy teased, sipping his at a slow pace… like a normal person would… as Clarke poured herself another.

“You did. It’s just Wallace… can we not talk about him?” she sighed. He held her glass as she hopped down from the counter. “What did Thelonious say to you when we left the room?” Clarke asked as she took her drink back.

“That he’s worried about you getting back into politics,” Bellamy sighed as he followed her to the couch.

“So, he still doesn’t suspect anything?” Clarke asked, plopping down in her usual spot.

“Don’t think so,” he replied, and Clarke rested her feet in his lap. “I mean, he told me that you love me, so he must buy the story.” He left out what he said in response, though Clarke could probably guess what “lie” followed in that conversation. When Clarke was silent in response, Bellamy glanced over at her. Her brows were knitted in confusion, as if something weren’t adding up. “What?”

“Nothing… just I haven’t had enough conversations with him recently for him to think that. We haven’t gotten to talk about you much except right when we first started dating,” she said before shrugging.

“Huh,” Bellamy muttered, staring down at his glass. At least neither of them has actually lied to the President about being in love. Bellamy told the truth tonight and Clarke never had to lie and say she loved Bellamy.

That fact should sting more, but it didn’t. He knew Clarke cared about him, that she loved being near him. She was his best friend here, and he was pretty sure he was her best friend too. It’s been a long time since he was this close to someone else, and he forgot how much he loved it. Even if Clarke never loved him back, he’d be okay… because he would still have her. He would still have this closeness… and that was enough.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and he let out a groan. When he looked down at it, it was a text from Kane. “Does he have a life?” he muttered as he showed Clarke his phone.

“Yeah, you’re his life now. That’s what happens when he gets it into his head that he wants to make you president,” she teased, taking the phone from his hand.

“How do I make him leave me alone for five minutes?” he grumbled, and a small smirk formed on Clarke’s lips as she started typing on his phone. “Clarke, give me my phone.”

“I’m making him go away,” she teased. When he reached for his phone, she held it just out of his reach. He shot her a warning look as he set his drink on the coffee table. When she still didn’t hand it over, he gripped her by the waist and started tickling her. Her giggles filled the apartment as she squirmed in his grip, still defiantly holding the phone as far from him as possible. Luckily, his arms were longer than hers, and he could finally reach it.

“’I’m drinking wine with my beautiful girlfriend so go away,’” he read off the text, chuckling quietly. “No more wine for you. I’m cutting you off,” he teased, and she scrunched her face up. He deleted the message she had typed out, then he felt Clarke go for his sides, finding his ticklish spot. “Fuck,” he muttered, grabbing her wrists before she could continue. “We’re calling a truce, Griffin.”

“I haven’t agreed to a truce, Blake,” she said defiantly.

“You will,” he deadpanned before letting go of her wrists to reach for her again.  When his hands got to her waist again, she squealed, giggling right into his ear. But this time when she squirmed, Bellamy didn’t have his balance… meaning she accidentally knocked him right off the couch, and he accidentally pulled her with him as he plummeted toward the carpet.

He landed on his back with a thump, Clarke crashing into his chest. “Are you okay?” she asked, pulling off him as fast as she could.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I blame you.”

“No, you don’t,” she teased, her hand cupping his cheek. He reached his hand up to cover hers, not thinking as he pulled it off his cheek to kiss her palm. When he looked up at her, there was a smile on those beautiful lips of hers. It wasn’t a huge or forced one… but the real one. God, he loved that beautiful smile.

When his eyes found hers, he realized she wasn’t looking at him… well, not at his eyes. Her eyes had dropped down to his lips for a beat too long before she diverted her gaze. “Clarke,” he whispered, feeling his heart begin to race. Her eyes fluttered to his, her hair falling from behind her ear. Before he could talk himself out of it, Bellamy craned his neck up and pressed his lips into hers. Her grip on his cheek tightened, pulling him closer.

Right as her lips parted for him, he put his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her down to meet him. Her hair fell around his face as she hummed into his mouth. He tried to pull away to catch his breath, but Clarke pressed a harder kiss to his lips… and he wondered if breathing was really even necessary. She knocked the breath right out of him as her soft lips crashed into his, as her tongue darted into his mouth, as she pressed herself hard against him.

His phone ringing broke them apart. A quiet curse escaped his lips as he searched the floor for where his phone had fallen.

“It’s Marcus,” Clarke said breathlessly, handing his phone to him as she sat up.

“Kane,” Bellamy answered, keeping his eyes on Clarke, “this is not a great time.”

“I asked you to update me on how the dinner went,” he huffed.

“It went fine. We can discuss the details in the morning,” Bellamy muttered.

“I should go,” Clarke mouthed, a blush still on her cheeks.

“Clarke.”

“Wait, Clarke is still with you?” Kane asked, and Bellamy slammed his eyes shut.

“Yes, she is,” he said.

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” Clarke whispered, and he wanted to scream for her to stay, but Kane was listing off a series of questions. Before Bellamy could say anything, Clarke was already on her feet and grabbing her things.

He kept his eyes on her as she walked out the door, his lips still warm from their kiss… their _real_ kiss. Their first real kiss… potentially the first of many.

“Bellamy, are you listening?” Kane snapped, jerking Bellamy out of his Clarke Griffin induced haze.

“No, repeat the question,” he stuttered out, running his fingers through his hair. But as soon as Kane started speaking again, his mind drifted back to the girl he loved and how her lips felt against his.


	8. You Are Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all thought the end of last chapter was cute.... oof, brace yourselves.

In Bellamy’s mind, there was nothing sadder than spending Christmas all alone. But he didn’t get to complain since he chose to spend his Christmas like this.

Bellamy had to spend Christmas back home for optics reasons, according to Kane. It looked bad if he spent all his time in DC instead of back home. That meant he wouldn’t spend his holidays in DC where most of his friends were. He knew that Miller and Jackson were spending Christmas day with Jackson’s family. He had no delusions about Octavia bothering to call.  

And Clarke… well, he didn’t want to make her choose between Christmas with her mom and Jaha or Christmas with him, so he told her to stay in Washington. Frankly, he was a bit relieved to have a few more days before she came down to Tennessee. He could use that extra time to get his head on straight.

That kiss in his apartment that Kane interrupted had thrown Bellamy through a loop. He couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened had Kane not called… if it would have kept going or if they would have talked about what it meant. But they still haven’t talked about it. He thought for sure they would have gotten the chance at Thanksgiving, but then Clarke got called away to deal with a client. And in the weeks that followed, she had been buried in her newest murder trial and hadn’t had the time to so much as be in the same room as Bellamy. So, for weeks, Bellamy had replayed that night over and over again in his head, trying to find some clue for what it meant to Clarke.

He was lying on his bed flipping through channels when Clarke called. “Merry Christmas,” he answered.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” she replied, her voice sounding warm. “Thelonious wanted me to tell you that you were missed today.”

“Was I?” he snorted.

“Well, I missed you, asshole,” she grumbled, and he chuckled. “Did you hear from Octavia?”

“No,” he sighed, turning off the TV. “Which is fine.”

Clarke didn’t say anything for a moment, probably not sure what to say to that. “So, what did you do today?” He glanced out the window, realizing the sun had already set.

“Not much of anything. I did Christmas last night at Miller’s,” he explained, though she knew that much. Clarke had been agitated that Bellamy didn’t seem to have Christmas plans, but it wasn’t like he had a family to spend it with anymore. “I’ve been watching a lot of old Christmas movies though.”

“By yourself?” she asked, further pointing out that he was all alone. He could hear the concern growing in her voice, and he just knew she was about to rant about how she should have spent Christmas with him despite his protests that it wasn’t necessary.

“Yes,” he muttered.

“See, this is why I said I should come home with you for Christmas. I didn’t want you to be all by yourself today,” she huffed, and he rolled his eyes.

“I wasn’t about to ask you to ditch your family just so I didn’t get lonely,” he snorted.

“You are family, Bellamy.”

He sat upright, his chest warming at her declaration. “Yeah?” he grinned, ducking his head out of habit. It was amazing how just talking to her turned his entire day around.

“Yeah,” she giggled. “Now, I think you need to get your hearing checked.”

“Why?” he huffed.

“Because I’ve been knocking on your door for half this conversation and you still haven’t answered it,” she teased, and his eyes went wide. After a beat, he heard the quiet knock coming from his front door.

Bellamy nearly tripped over himself as he sprinted toward the door, his heart pounding by the time he finally swung it open. And there was Clarke Griffin, all bundled up in a coat and scarf, smirking at him. “Did you really think I was going to let you spend Christmas alone?” she asked, and he pulled her in for a tight hug and pressed a kiss to her hair. He had to stop himself from slamming his lips into hers… at least until he knew how she felt about their real kiss. So, he just grinned like an idiot and pressed kisses to the top of her head. It felt so good to have her in his arms again.

“Did you fly here?” he said, not letting go of her just yet. God, he was so happy to see her. He had missed Clarke so much, and it was even harder not having her here for Christmas.

“Borrowed the private jet after I left the White House.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You know, you didn’t have to do this.”

“Yeah,” she said, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, “I did.” She winked at him as she carried her suitcase inside. He let his fingers trace over his cheek where her kiss seemed to linger on his skin, watching her furrow her eyebrows as she surveyed his living room. “Where the hell is your Christmas tree?” she huffed, and he bit down on his lip.

“If I had known you were going to be here for Christmas, I would have gotten one,” he replied, shutting the front door.

“You’re a mess without me, huh?” she teased.

“You have no idea.”

He was relieved that his house was actually clean and that he had already made up the guest room for Clarke. He grabbed her bags and gave her the short tour. While she was getting changed, Bellamy scavenged through his cabinets to see if he had any wine for her. He had planned on stocking up before she got to Nashville, but he hadn’t expected her here for a few more days.

“Clarke, for once, I don’t have wine for you,” he sighed. “I have beer leftover from last night?”

“I’m good,” she chuckled, walking back into the living room. She had changed into pajama bottoms and a Christmas sweater. “So, what Christmas movie haven’t you watched today?”

“I was saving Christmas Vacation for last,” he said, already beelining toward the TV.

“Oh, thank God,” Clarke grinned, curling up onto his couch. He got the DVD going before joining her, his stomach fluttering when Clarke scooted over to curl up against him. He leaned back in his seat, putting his arm around her as she snuggled up against his side.

“Thank you for being here,” he whispered into her hair before kissing the top of her head again. “You made my day.” He rested his head atop hers, looking back at the screen. She nuzzled a bit closer to him, sighing contentedly as she reached for his hand.

 

* * *

 

At the sound of his phone ringing, he blinked his eyes open, trying to remember where he left his phone. When he tried to sit up, he heard Clarke groan. He froze, realizing the two of them had fallen asleep during the movie. The menu was playing on a loop on the screen in front of them. Clarke was stirring beside him, her face buried into his shirt.

He spotted his phone on the other side of her. “Clarke,” he whispered. She murmured something into his shirt, awake enough now for him to move her so he could grab his phone. Once it was in his grasp, he pulled it closer to see who was calling. “Holy shit.”

Once he was disentangled from Clarke, he answered it. “O,” he whispered. Clarke sat upright at the mention of his sister, her eyes widening. He bit down on his lip as he marched toward his room.

“Hey, big brother,” Octavia said. Bellamy rested his back against his door, clenching his eyes shut. It was actually her.

“Hey, how are you? Is everything okay?” he asked frantically. She didn’t usually contact Bellamy unless something was wrong.

“Yeah, and merry Christmas by the way. Or late merry Christmas for you, I guess,” she sighed. Bellamy’s eyes flickered to the clock by his bed, seeing it was one in the morning. With the time difference, it should be eleven where she is. “Did you spend it with the Millers’?”

“That was how I spent Christmas Eve. I actually spent Christmas with my girlfriend,” he said carefully.

“That rich blonde from Washington?” she asked with a hint of derision. Octavia had the same chip on her shoulder that Bellamy did, and she was reacting about the same way he would have a few months ago.

“Yeah, Clarke,” he said, choosing not to chastise Octavia for her tone. This was the first time he had heard from her in a long time, and he wasn’t about to provoke her into hanging up on him. “What about you?”

“I had to work,” she muttered.

“On Christmas?” he huffed, throwing his head back.

“I needed the money,” she sighed, and he bit down on his lip. He should have known this was why she was calling. “Uh, last month one of my friends got into some trouble, and I helped them out. But they haven’t been able to pay me back yet…”

“Do you mean Lincoln?” Bellamy snapped automatically.

“Lincoln’s dead, Bellamy.”

“What?” Bellamy choked out, shaking his head. “How?”

“Does it matter? Don’t pretend you ever gave a shit about him.”

“Octavia, you should have told me. Are you okay? When did this happen?” he asked frantically. He might not have wanted his sister with Lincoln, but she loved him. There was no way she was okay losing Lincoln. “You know I would have dropped everything to come be with you if I had known, O.”

“Please, you’ve been too busy with that Griffin brat,” she hissed.

“You don’t know Clarke,” he said carefully, trying to keep his own anger in check.

“I don’t have to. Besides, the big brother I grew up with would never be caught dead with a stuck-up girl like her. Figured you were just using her for your career.”

“I love her,” he corrected, feeling his face contort as he tried not to yell at Octavia.

“That must suck for you then since you’ll never live up to the great Wells Jaha,” she spat. “Kinda hoped you were using her for your sake. Can’t imagine how much it hurts to be in love with someone whose heart is still broken for her dead fiancé.”

He knew that wasn’t entirely true. Octavia didn’t have the full story. Clarke was never in love with Wells. He was her best friend, her family, the only real thing she had. Her relationship with Bellamy was different if that kiss was anything to go by. She still loved and missed Wells, but Bellamy wasn’t his replacement.

But Octavia’s words still stung. She picked them carefully, knowing that it had to be an insecurity that would rile Bellamy up. In every news coverage and tabloid article, Bellamy is compared to Wells. He did his best to keep from reading those stories or watching the panels, but he knew that what was they were all talking about. From his speaking skills to his policies to how in love Clarke looked when around him… Bellamy was compared to Wells Jaha. In the eyes of a lot of the world and sometimes in Bellamy’s own private thoughts, he was Clarke’s replacement for the one she lost all those years ago. It didn’t help that she still had the wedding dress she never got to wear in her closet or frequently wore her old engagement ring on her right hand. Clarke was still holding onto Wells, and while Bellamy knew the truth about their relationship, it still sometimes felt like Octavia’s words were true.

But he knew the truth. He trusted Clarke to tell him the truth. He knew what Octavia was saying was just a way to get under his skin, and he wasn’t going to let her. So, he gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath. “How much money do you need?”

“What? No response to—”

“How much?” he snapped. She fell silent for a few moments, likely not used to Bellamy not fighting back with her or apologizing for things that weren’t his fault. “Or just send me an amount tomorrow and I’ll wire it over.”

“Bellamy.”

“Just so you know, I’m going to propose to Clarke,” he whispered. Kane had been pushing for him to officially ask when he got back to Washington. Bellamy had the ring already, but he needed to talk to Clarke about how she wanted to do it first. “I would love for you to come to the wedding, but I’m not expecting a miracle.”

“You can’t be serious. God, Mom will roll over in her grave.”

“Mom would be relieved to see me happy, O. Just like you should be,” he sighed. “Look, I’m sorry about Lincoln. I know you loved him. I can’t imagine what you are going through.” Outside his door, he heard Clarke’s feet shuffling in the living room. “I’m going to bed. Send me a note with how much you need tomorrow.”

“Bell,” Octavia said right as his thumb hovered over the end button. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, shaking his head. It would all hurt so much less if that weren’t true. “Merry Christmas, O.”

“Merry Christmas, big brother.” He hung up before she could say anything else, feeling the tears starting to form in his eyes. He sat there on his bedroom floor for a few moments, trying to calm down before he stepped out to face Clarke.

He finally pushed himself to his feet, tossing his phone onto his bed. When he opened his door, he half expected to find Clarke standing right outside it. But as he walked down the hallway, he found her in the living room, pacing back and forth… clearly waiting on him. “Hey,” he called out, and her head snapped in his direction.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her eyes studying him as she stepped toward him.

“Yeah, she just needs some money. No big deal,” he said. She furrowed her eyebrows at that. “Everything is fine,” he lied, trying to push that skeptical look off her face.

She pressed her lips together, giving him a subtle once over. After a beat, she crossed over to him, throwing her arms around him as she pulled him in for a tight hug. His head fell to her shoulder automatically, his mind crying out in relief. He didn’t know how badly he needed this small reassurance. He wrapped his arms around her too, pulling her tight against him.

It was nice having his own person. Someone that was there for him. Someone that was always rooting for him. Someone that might love him.

 

* * *

 

The first few days Clarke was there were pretty relaxed. She had some work to get done, so the two of them mostly hung around his house. Miller brought Jackson by one night, and of course, Jackson adored Clarke. But for the most part, it was just him and Clarke laying around the house and getting take out.

Tomorrow was supposed to be the first day Clarke was here, and their schedule was packed full of the touristy things Clarke wanted to do and the public appearances Kane demanded they do. So, for their last chill night, Bellamy built a bonfire in his backyard like he used to do with his mom and Octavia.

“I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” Clarke said as she got her marshmallow onto her stick.

“Me neither.” They were sitting pretty close together since it was cold, not that Bellamy minded one bit. Nor did he think Clarke did since she curled up as close to him as possible. She had been doing that a lot since arriving in Nashville… a lot more than usual. At first, he thought it was just because she was trying to cheer him up after his call with Octavia. But she seemed happier when she was close to him too.

“You’re gonna burn yours.”

“I like them slightly burnt,” he said.

“God, you’re weird,” she giggled as she grabbed the graham crackers and chocolate for her marshmallow.

“You barely roasted yours. You’re the weird one,” he teased.

“Alright, that’s it. I thought this thing between us was going to work, but now that I’ve seen how you mangle your marshmallows, I can’t even look at you,” she snorted before taking a bite of her s’more. He chuckled as he wiped some chocolate off her cheek.

“Of the two of us, you’re the one that’s harder to look like right now. Should I run in and get you a napkin?” he teased as she wiped the rest off her cheeks.

“I hate you,” she grumbled.

“Well, that’s unfortunate since we’re getting married,” he pointed out. He pulled his marshmallow out, blowing on it as he inspected it.

“Yeah, about that, you are going to warn me before you propose, right?” she asked.

“I mean, you already know I’m going to. How much more warning could you want?” he chuckled, and she handed him the graham crackers and chocolate.

“A lot of warning.”

“I know that neither of us are experts in how normal people do relationships, but isn’t it supposed to be a surprise?” he teased as he assembled his s’more.

“We aren’t normal people, Bell,” she pointed out. “And I’d like to not be caught off guard.”

He turned his head to look at her, seeing anxiety in her eyes. “What is this really about?” he asked, and she bit down on her lip. “How did Wells propose to you?” As soon as her eyes fell, he knew he was onto something.

“His dad talked him into going very big. It was at a huge party, a party that kind of got sprung on me at last minute. I didn’t know that Wells was going to drag me out in the middle of the ballroom and propose to me in front of hundreds of people. I had a horrible panic attack after. It was just too much.”

Bellamy pressed his lips together, thinking over all the big things that Kane had suggested. It was Kane’s goal to make as big of a spectacle of this as possible. But Bellamy didn’t want to, and now that he knows Clarke doesn’t want to either, he won’t listen to Kane.

“I know Marcus will push for something very public, which is fine,” she said.

“We don’t have to listen to him all the time, Clarke,” he sighed, pulling her in a little closer. Her head fell onto his shoulder, and he rested his against hers. “Our lives are enough of a spectacle.”

“The point of doing this is to be seen.”

“That’s the beauty of social media,” he snorted. “I could post a selfie featuring the engagement ring from a remote corner of the world, and it would go viral within seconds. It’d have the same effect of doing something big but without the anxiety.” Clarke lifted her head up, blinking her eyes up at him. “What? You think you’re the only one anxious about this?” he chuckled. “I’m dreading having Raven make me practice on her or having Murphy critique everything I prepare. God, if I could just do it now, I would.”

“I mean, you could,” she teased.

Bellamy’s eyes widened at her before looking at the house behind them. He could run inside right now and grab the ring. He could ask her right now without any of the pressure and anxiety. It wouldn’t matter if he screwed up the words because it was just Clarke. It would just be him and the girl he loved… no paparazzi, no judgy Washington elite, no strangers crowding them.

“Can I?” he asked her, praying she granted him permission.

“You already have the ring?” she asked, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah,” he said, already pushing himself to his feet.

“Go get it.”

He ran into the house, barreling into his bedroom as quickly as he could before he lost his nerve. He pulled the box out of his drawer before opening it. As he stared at the ring that Murphy and Monty got into a near shouting match over before Bellamy picked Murphy’s choice, it hit him that he was actually doing this. He was going to propose to Clarke. They were going to get married.

He braced his hand on his dresser, taking a deep breath. He knew this was where they were heading, of course. It was in the contract they both signed. It was a decision made the day after they first met. But now that they were here, it felt more real.

Bellamy shoved the box into his pocket, shakily making his way out of his room. He could do this. It was just a question… a question he kind of already asked months ago. He knew how she would answer. There should be nothing to be nervous about.

But here Bellamy was… nervous. Nervous because it was Clarke. Nervous because he loved her. Nervous because this felt real to him. Nervous because he didn’t know how real it was for Clarke.

When he stepped out the backdoor, he spotted her pacing beside the fire, ringing her hands nervously. “Clarke,” he said, walking toward her. Her head shot up as she bit down on her lip. “We don’t have to do this now. We can make a plan and do this later.”

“Is that what you want to do?” she whispered, uncertainty creeping into her voice. He stepped toward her, pulling her into his chest.

“I’m asking what you want, Clarke. Do you want me to ask now or do you want to wait?” he murmured, letting his fingers run through her curls as she thought over her answer. He took a few quiet breaths, trying to calm down. Clarke was already nervous enough. She didn’t need to see him like this too.

“I just… I’m going to be nervous either way,” she mumbled, her eyes falling down to his chest. “At least if we did it now, it would just be us here. It wouldn’t be a spectacle.”

“Okay,” he whispered into her hair, closing his eyes as he tried to relax enough to ask the question. “I’ll keep it simple but we’re doing this right,” he promised, and she finally pulled away enough to look up at him. Bellamy took another deep breath before getting on one knee. He took her hand in his, praying she didn’t feel it shaking. “Clarke Griffin,” he started, “you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I think I knew that the night we met. I can’t figure out how I managed before I knew you. You are this piece of my life that I had no idea I was missing until I found you.”

Her blue eyes were soft as she looked at him, and he could feel her starting to relax. But he couldn’t relax just yet… not until he got through this… not until he told her the truth. “Clarke Griffin, I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he confessed, “because I love you.” Bellamy just prayed she knew this wasn’t a performance for him, that this was the most honest thing he has ever said to her. They were the scariest words he could ever say to her, the only ones that made his next question seem less terrifying by comparison. “Will you marry me?”

Clarke’s eyes didn’t leave his as he opened the box, and he couldn’t read them. He couldn’t tell if she knew he meant every word. “Yes,” she said, before her eyes drifted to the ring. “Now, you aren’t going to make me put that on myself, are you?” she teased, and his entire body relaxed.

He chuckled quietly as he slid the ring onto her finger. It looked beautiful on her hand, and all anxiety Bellamy had about choosing Murphy’s ring went out the window. He stood up as Clarke stared at the ring on her finger, her eyes wide. “Was all that okay?” he whispered, and her eyes fluttered up to meet his.

“You did good, Blake,” she grinned, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around her.

“Thank God,” he mumbled as he pulled his phone from his back pocket. “Now, we gotta capture this moment in selfie form and post it before Kane makes us go through this again.” Clarke buried her face into his shoulder, giggling as he got the camera on his phone ready to go. “Okay.”

Clarke leaned into him, propping her left hand on his chest so the ring was in view of the camera. “Okay, kiss me for the next one,” she said in that bossy tone of hers that he loved so much. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. He shivered when Clarke cupped his cheek with her hand… just like she did the last time they kissed. Bellamy was so thrown he almost forgot to take the picture.

He pulled away as soon as he did, and he swears Clarke looked disappointed. But he shook that thought away, reminding himself to keep his guard up until he knew how Clarke felt. He directed his attention to Instagram and getting the two photos up as quickly as possible.

Once they were uploaded, he turned his phone to show Clarke. “Cute,” she grinned before her eyes met his. “Marcus won’t be happy.”

“Well, he works for me, not the other way around,” Bellamy snorted. Clarke raised an eyebrow at him, and he let out a sigh. “He’ll get over it. Alright, let’s get back to burning marshmallows.”

“Bellamy, wait,” Clarke said, grabbing his hand before he moved toward the dying down fire. He turned toward her, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “Will you…”

“What?” he asked, stepping back toward her.

“Will you kiss me again?” she whispered so quietly he barely heard her over the pounding in his chest. He hesitated too long, and Clarke’s eyes dropped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

He cut her off by tilting her chin up and pressing his lips into hers. She was frozen for a moment, too shocked that he actually did it. Hell, Bellamy was shocked too. But then, her lips started moving against his, and he just wanted _more_. He took her face between his hands and kissed her even harder, figuring that if this might be one of the few real kisses they got to have, he’d let her know just how much he wanted her.

Her hands gripped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him back to her when he tried to catch his breath. He swore against her lips, tasting a hint of s’mores from earlier. One of her hands travelled up to his neck, combing her fingers through his curls as her tongue slipped past his lips.

An involuntary growl escaped his throat when she found his tongue, and his hand dropped to her waist so he could pull her tight against him. The soft, tentative, exploratory kisses from before were gone and replaced with hungry ones. The kind that came from longing for someone for far too long. Clarke kissed him back as hard as he kissed her, gripping his hair as he pressed his chest tight against hers.

Bellamy pulled away first, resting his forehead against hers as his eyes fell shut. He should make them talk about this, about what it meant. Between this and their kiss back at his apartment, his mind was reeling, trying to figure out what was going on in Clarke’s pretty head. “It’s getting really cold,” Clarke whispered, and his eyes darted toward the fire. It was almost dead. “Should we head back in?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, breaking away to grab their things. He was in a haze as they walked back into the house, trying to get his words exactly right. But there was no non-terrifying way to ask Clarke if she loved him too.

He shed his jacket once they were inside, still not sure what to say to Clarke. He braced his hands on the back of a chair, taking a deep breath. “Bell,” Clarke called out, her voice soft and warm. Then, he felt her hand on his bicep. His eyes flickered up to meet hers. “Is something wrong? Did I—”

“No,” he cut her off, turning around to face her. “Nothing’s wrong. This is perfect… you’re perfect,” he stuttered out, and her eyes softened.

“Okay,” she whispered, taking a hesitant step toward him. Her eyes were nervous, as if she were really worried he’d push her away. Her hand rested on his chest as she got up onto her tiptoes. His hand moved to her back, holding her close as she pressed a soft, short kiss to his lips. But he didn’t let her pull away after. No, he seized her lips again, his body relaxing when she threw her arms around his neck.

Alarms went off in his mind. _Too real_. Too blurred a line between what was real between them and what was for show. But Clarke Griffin rarely did anything she didn’t want to. She was always exactly where she wanted to be. And she asked him to kiss her. She didn’t tell him to like she normally had to. She asked and was scared he wouldn’t. So, _something_ was real here. Very real. And Bellamy had every intention of holding onto it… whatever it was.

He kept kissing her. He let her drag him down the hallway toward his bedroom, pressing her up against the door once they were inside. He swallowed her whimpers as his tongue dove into her mouth. He let her push him back until he was sitting on his bed and she climbed into his lap.

It all happened in a haze. A drunk-on-Clarke stupor. And he ended up on his back with Clarke’s hair falling all around his face as she kissed him. “Clarke,” he whispered, his voice low, “you’ve got to stop kissing me like this.”

“Like what?” she asked, her voice almost teasing. Then, she pressed another kiss to her lips, teasing her tongue along his bottom lip.

“Like that,” he huffed. His arousal was growing, and he knew she could feel it. “You’re killing me.”

“Am I?” she giggled before grinding down lightly on his erection. “You seem just fine to me,” she teased before biting his bottom lip.

“Clarke,” he pleaded. “You’re making it very hard for me to act like a gentleman right now.”

“So, don’t.” And those two words were all it took for Bellamy to roll Clarke onto her back and trail searing kisses down her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know what's coming up next chapter *wink wink* honestly the fact that I made it eight whole chapters before smutting it up is remarkable for me
> 
> also, I'm not sure if I'll update again Thursday. we'll just see how this week goes for me. but I'll always update on Monday, so worst case scenario, see you in a week!


	9. What You Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's smut o'clock somewhere

Any illusion Bellamy had that he was in control of the situation was just that… an illusion. It didn’t matter that he was on top of Clarke because she was still directing everything. He should have known she’d be bossy in bed too.

“Off,” she whimpered into his ear, tugging at the hem of his shirt. She was still fully dressed beneath him despite ridding him of his jacket, unzipping his jeans, and now badgering him into taking off his shirt.

He braced his hand beside her head to keep balance as he pulled his shirt off. “You always get what you want, don’t you?” he teased as he threw it to the side. Clarke was biting down on her bruised bottom lip to hide her smirk. He buried his face back into her neck, dragging his mouth up her throat until his lips touched her ear. Bellamy could feel her shiver beneath him, and _fuck_ , he could get used to that. “What else do you want?” he murmured against her lobe.

Clarke gripped his chin, pulling him back to meet her lips. He chuckled against her lips before kissing her back, loving the quiet way she gasped as their lips brushed against each other. It wasn’t like kissing her in public, where Clarke would press her lips to his like it was nothing. No, each time they collided, there was a purpose, a desire, a hunger… a need for it. And he was more than happy to give that to her… because he needed it too. He had needed it for so long.

He pushed off her, falling to the side without removing his lips from hers so that he could unbutton the top of her pants. Her fingers found their way into his curls, and he nearly whimpered into her mouth in response. The way she brushed her fingers through his hair felt so perfect and right. And he fell in love with how she gripped the curls as he slid his hand into her pants, just resting over her panties.

“Can I?” he murmured into her mouth, feeling her nod immediately. Her kisses grew gentler as he slipped his hand beneath the flimsy fabric. He kept his eyes open, watching how hers fluttered shut as he rested his hand over her hot cunt.

She was soaked. An involuntary growl escaped the back of his throat at the realization that it was all for him. That Bellamy made her this wet.

With her pants still on, he couldn’t quite work a finger into her. So, he stroked her clit slowly, swallowing her quiet whimpers in his mouth. After a few minutes, she whined, “Take them off.” Still bossy, and he loved her for it.

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirked, pulling off her to tug them off. She lifted her hips as he tugged, and he couldn’t help but notice how bruised her lips had become or how messy her hair was as it spread out on his bedspread. It was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. She was so happy and worked up and needy. Her eyes were trained on him, more heated than usual, but still as affectionate.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he blurted out as he crawled back over again, savoring her shy blush in response to his words. Her lips were ready for him when he kissed her again, happily sighing into his mouth… like she had been waiting to meet his lips again.

He let his hand slip into her pink panties again, smirking as she spread her legs for him. Clarke whimpered into his mouth as he pressed a finger inside her. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, pulling away slightly so he could really see her. She was beaming up at him, her eyes wide and lips parted as he lazily thrust his finger in and out of her, her growing wetter each time.

She gripped onto his hair when he pressed another finger into her. “You’re taking my fingers so well,” he cooed. She kept making these little noises, breathless and desperate ones… the kind that had him aching for her. He chased those noises as his fingers dove in and out of her, as his mouth tried to kiss every inch of her gorgeous throat.

Bellamy never thought he would actually get to have Clarke like this. All warm and wanting, arching into his every touch. He had wanted it. He had wanted it for so long, possibly since the first time Clarke’s lips brushed against his on their first date. But he had no idea he would ever be _here_ with Clarke Griffin. That he would ever have her.

Her warm cunt clenched his fingers, causing his cock to twitch. “Bell,” she whined, and he kept his face buried into her neck. “Bellamy.” This time it was more like a command, the way Clarke said his name when she wanted something.

He pulled his head up to look at her, catching her blown pupils peering at him. “Baby, what do you need?” he murmured, loving how her lips parted at _baby_. He had never called her anything but Clarke, though he mentally called her _princess_ from time to time. But he liked the way _baby_ fell off his lips, and he loved how Clarke’s gaze grew warmer at the sound of it.

“One more,” she whimpered. He was careful as he added one more finger, watching Clarke’s face for any sign of discomfort. Her lips parted beautifully, and her hand gripped the comforter beside her… the hand that had the ring on it.

Clarke had caught him so off guard with asking him for a kiss that he had nearly forgotten the question he asked her. But there was the ring… the reminder that soon, Clarke Griffin would be his wife. Seeing it on her hand triggered something so possessive him, something that warmed at the realization that she was his.

He crashed his lips into hers, greedily swallowing her moans as his fingers plunged into her. “Let go, sweetheart,” he growled, desperate to feel how she fell apart. He kissed her again, though her kisses were getting messier the closer she came to coming around his fingers. The scraping of her nails against the back of his neck was the only warning he had before she broke out into a scream.

“That’s it,” he panted into her ear after she threw her head back. “So perfect. Fuck, Clarke.” She clenched around his fingers so perfectly, and he was desperate to know what she felt like around his cock.

He kissed down her neck, listening to her labored breathing as she came down. Her skin was so soft and warm beneath his lips, making it addicting to keep mapping out her skin with his kisses. “That was…” she hummed, the words vibrating against his lips as he kissed toward her jawline. “Fuck.”

“Not very ladylike to swear, Clarke,” he teased. She gripped his face before pulling him up so she could look at him. Her eyes were soft, a bit dazed still.

“Shut up,” she giggled before leaning up to press a slow kiss to his lips. His hand found hers and pressed it back into the mattress as his finger traced over the ring. When he pulled his lips away, he let his forehead rest against hers. Her eyes flashed up to his, bright and beautiful as always. God, he loved those eyes. He loved her. “What?” she chuckled.

“What?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she giggled. He let his eyes fall shut, realizing he was definitely looking at her like she was the greatest thing to ever happen to him… which she is, of course. But he just shrugged and felt Clarke kiss his cheek. “Now, what is it you need, Bell?” she whispered into his skin, her voice warm and sweet. Her lips dragged across his face, wet and wanting. And it was too much for him.

“To be inside you,” he growled, opening his eyes in time to see Clarke’s darken. After a beat, Clarke began tugging down at his pants eagerly. He chuckled as he pulled her in for another kiss, though Clarke was too determined to stop. “Let me. But I want that shirt of yours off,” he murmured against her lips.

They broke apart to undress and for him to get a condom on, and it took too long for Bellamy. He was aching to touch her again, to kiss her, to hear her breathing hitch for him. He was determined to crash back into her as soon as his pants were off, but he froze when he saw Clarke naked on his bed. His eyes drifted down to the curve of her heavy breasts, to her hardened nipples. He caught a glimpse of her arousal on her pink cunt, still dripping from earlier.

“Bellamy,” she whined, and the spell broke long enough for him to climb on top of her, swallowing her excited giggles as he pressed her back into the mattress. They kissed for a few moments, almost innocently as his hands trailed up her bare skin. But the innocence didn’t last long. Soon, they were both tugging at each other’s hair, their tongues colliding as they hungrily tried to get as close as possible.

Bellamy pulled away breathlessly, letting his eyes drift down her naked body. “Can I?” he choked out.

“Please,” she whined.

He could feel himself grow nervous about what they were about to do, about the huge step this was… about the fact that it was Clarke. It wasn’t some quick hook up when he managed to have a night off or a random girl he met at a bar. It was Clarke Griffin, his soon-to-be wife and future mother of his children. The girl who changed his entire life just by changing her mind, though he still had no idea why she did. The only voice of support and comfort he has in his life. The woman he loves.

It was probably obvious he was nervous. He fumbled around a bit, and his face went flush. But whatever teasing remark Clarke had for him vanished on her tongue when he slid his cock between her dripping folds. She whined the longer he teased her, squirming for some kind of friction. “I’ve got you,” he promised before pressing the head of his cock inside her warm cunt.

She arched her back as he slipped inside her, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. He inched himself closer to her, pressing farther into her tight cunt. “Bellamy,” she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. His lips landed on her neck as he murmured his praises. One of her hands travelled up to his hair again, tugging at the curls as he lazily thrust into her. Despite his earlier ministrations, she was achingly tight around him. “You’re so big.”

“And you’re taking my cock so well, baby,” he growled against her skin, feeling her shiver in response. She began whimpering again as he nosed at her jawline. “So perfect, Clarke. You’re perfect.” He kissed her cheek finally, catching her blue eyes peering up at him as he pulled his lips away. She looked at him with a warmth that he had only caught a few glimpses of in the past. This look never failed to make his heart pound or cause his mind to race. It was the same look she had when she had insisted on Christmas that Bellamy _is_ family. The same adoration in her eyes when she asked him to kiss her again tonight. It was a look that meant something. That meant she longed for him too. That she might even love him.

The possibility she might was overwhelming Bellamy. He found himself crashing his lips hard into hers, trying to sear the fact that he loved her into her lips. Clarke wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her as she met each of his kisses with equal fervor. He slammed his hips harder and harder into her, the wet sound of their bodies colliding barely audible over Clarke’s crying out.

_I love you_ , he found himself wanting to scream out. The words were fighting to get out, but he swallowed them every time. Instead, he told her how perfect she felt, how beautiful she is, how much he wants her…

And as she came undone around his cock and as he followed soon after, he couldn’t help but hate how no words seemed to do what he felt for Clarke justice. No compliments of her beauty could ever explain the overpowering urge Bellamy had to stare at her whenever she was nearby. The way he lost his train of thought when she smiled. The warmth he felt in his chest whenever he peered into those blue eyes of hers. No amount of telling her that he wants her captured the sheer need he has for her. The way that her presence has improved his life in every possible way. How she keeps him calm and centered. How she treats him with such gentleness and affection. How every little thought of his always leads him back to her.

Clarke’s smile was soft as she curled into Bellamy’s chest. Her left hand rested on his chest, and he couldn’t help but reach for it to press a kiss to her palm, letting his fingers linger on the engagement ring as he did. “Bell,” she mumbled. “Turn off the light and let’s go to sleep.”

He chuckled as he let go of her hand before reaching to turn the light out. “Okay,” he whispered, a huge grin forming on his face as Clarke pressed herself even closer to him. He managed to snake an arm around her before kissing the top of her head. “Go to sleep.”

It wasn’t like last time they lied in bed together. There was no staying on opposite sides and turning their backs to each other. Bellamy got to hold her this time… and he wasn’t sure he could ever let go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since I last checked, I've hit 1k kudos, which is just incredible! None of my multichapters have ever gotten this kind of love, so thank you thank you thank you! Y'all really are the best and it means a lot to me. Love you guys! See you Monday!


	10. The Front Page

Bellamy had the goofiest smile on his face throughout New Year’s Eve. Everyone assumed it was because of his engagement. It was what everyone they spoke with in Nashville assumed. And that was part of it, sure. But it was hard to get that excited about something they agreed on right after they met. The fact that he was marrying Clarke wasn’t new to him.

But the way Clarke leaned a little bit closer to him was. As was her increased PDA and real smile whenever she looked at him. Since that night, he had noticed something new between them every day. The sleepy smile on Clarke’s face when he kissed her in the morning. The way she’d bury her face into his chest when she laughed too hard. The small pout when she wanted him to lean down so she could reach him for a kiss. He loved all of it.

Though, it was distracting as hell. They had actual events to go to. A library opening, dinner with the governor, a charity drive… etc. And anyone with a set of eyes could see that Bellamy was just counting down the moments until he could go home with Clarke.

Luckily tonight, they were downtown, and no one was really paying attention to them. Sure, photos were being taken and hands were being shook, but even the mayor was a bit tipsy and just ready for the Music Note Drop. So, Bellamy didn’t feel bad as he held Clarke close to him, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek every so often.

“You sure you don’t want to throw away your silly career as a senator and become a country singer?” Clarke teased, leaning back to look at him. “I could get used to this.” She seemed to really love it here. She had this excited energy about her that she didn’t have back in Washington. Frankly, they were both dreading going back.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I can’t sing,” he pointed out. He could help but smile at her. She was a bit tipsy, as was he, and Clarke tended to get a bit more affectionate when drinking. She leaned even closer to him than usual, whined until he put his arm around her waist, and kept sneaking kisses to his cheek when no one was looking. And throughout all of it, she was just beaming at him with the softest little smile… and it was contagious. “But we can make more trips here.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll just be a senator’s wife,” she said with a mock pout.

“You poor thing,” he smirked. He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, and all attempts of faking a pout were thwarted by her automatic smile. Before they could say anything else, the countdown started. “You sure you ready for this?” he teased.

“Hell yeah,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she looked to the music note. He chuckled, watching her with the same goofy smile that had been on his face since Clarke asked him to kiss her.

Once the countdown was finished and the music note dropped, Bellamy gripped her face between his hands and crashed his lips into hers. “Happy New Year, Clarke,” he whispered against her lips.

“Happy New Year, Bell,” she whispered back before he kissed her again.

 

* * *

 

They stumbled back into his house around two in the morning, and Clarke immediately beelined for his room. He followed after her, smiling to himself as she automatically changed into one of his shirts. After a few minutes, they were both in bed with the lights out, and Clarke was curling up into his side.

“Can we just stay here?” she mumbled into his shirt, her curls tickling his nose.

“Clarke, we both have jobs.”

“Fuck,” she grumbled, and he burst out laughing. Her fingers found the collar of his shirt, mindlessly tracing it as she relaxed into him.

He ran his hand up and down her back, though his mind was wandering to how things would change in a few days. They’d be back in Washington. Clarke would be slammed with cases. Bellamy will have to deal with the usual Senate bullshit. And in their spare moments, they’d be spending their time planning an elaborate wedding. Things wouldn’t be as slow and quiet as they were right here in his bed.

“Bell,” she whispered. “You know what’s weird?”

“What?”

“A year ago, we didn’t know each other.” He blinked a few times, realizing just how much had happened in a year. He was a nobody in Washington, a one term senator who didn’t have any kind of political future. Then, Marcus Kane happened. And he brought Bellamy to Clarke. His life was completely different now.

“A year ago, I spent New Year’s all alone.”

“Me too,” she sighed, and he pulled her a bit closer. At least now, they weren’t alone anymore… and wouldn’t be ever again. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why I changed my mind.” He furrowed his brows in confusion as Clarke pulled her head back to look up at him. Despite the darkness in the room, her bright eyes were easy to make out as they peered at him. “You know, after we met up at Grounders.”

“I don’t understand.” Clarke pressed her lips together, her eyes dropping to his chest as she thought her words over.

“It’s just… talking to you was the first time in a really long time that I didn’t feel all alone,” she whispered, and his eyes softened. “I, uh… I asked you to come up with a reason for me to say yes, and when you couldn’t, I was disappointed because I didn’t want to say goodbye to you.” She was describing the same pang he felt when he realized he’d have to walk away. He didn’t want to say goodbye either.

“Clarke.” She leaned into his touch when he cupped her cheek, her skin soft and warm against his. He thought after these last few days he would get used to touching Clarke like this, but it still sent a jolt through him whenever he did.

“I know. It’s just… you walked out of there, and all I wanted to do was ask you to stay. And you wouldn’t even try to talk me into it because you knew it wasn’t in my best interest, and that’s the first time anyone has done that for me.” Bellamy opened his mouth to protest, figuring that it couldn’t be the first time anyone did that for Clarke. Sure, a lot of her life had been engineered to help her father’s political career, but it couldn’t have all been like that. “So, I changed my mind because I didn’t feel all alone when I was with you. And I knew that someone who walked away instead of talking me into something that would be hard for me wouldn’t hurt me.”

Her eyes were nervous as she watched him, as if she had anything to worry about. But it was such a relief that she felt the same pull he did. And it was a relief she said yes for him, not for the potential political gain.

“It took everything in me to leave that diner, Clarke,” he reassured, letting his hand trail up to her cheek. “I didn’t want to walk away from you.” Her eyes relaxed as she let out a quiet breath. “I hadn’t felt at peace in Washington until I met you, Clarke. I’m so grateful that you changed your mind.” _Because I love you_ , he wanted to add in, but he bit his tongue. Clarke didn’t pick on him saying it during the proposal, likely assuming he said it because that’s what people say during proposals. So, he wasn’t about to say it again.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he promised before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. He loved the way she pressed herself tight against him as if she couldn’t get close enough. He loved her. And that goofy grin stayed on his face as she rested her head against his chest, sighing contentedly. His hand rested over hers, mindlessly playing with the ring on her finger.

 

* * *

 

He grumbled into his pillow as Clarke’s phone rang, whining slightly as she detangled herself from him to answer.

“Someone better be dead if you’re waking me up this early on one of my few days off,” he heard Clarke huff, and he snickered into his pillow. Then, he felt the bed shift as Clarke jerked straight up. He turned onto his side, rubbing his eyes as he tried to wake up. “Are you sure?”

He could sort of hear a man’s voice on the other line, though it wasn’t Kane. “I’m not the leak,” Clarke snapped, and that made Bellamy sit up. She mouthed _my grandfather_ to Bellamy before turning her head away. “We’ve kept this secret for years, so why now? No, I just told you it wasn’t me.” Clarke pushed herself out of bed in a huff. “Who would I have told?”

Richard was talking a mile a minute from what Bellamy could tell, and he couldn’t make out a word of it. Just the overall tone of anger. “It can’t be me because I didn’t tell anyone,” she said, her lips tense. After a beat, her posture stiffened. Her eyes briefly made eye contact with him, graver than he had ever seen them, before she jerked them away. “No.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy whispered, but she held her hand up.

“Well, does it really matter how it happened? It’s out there now,” she hissed. “Yeah, fine.” As soon as she hung up, Clarke darted out the door.

Bellamy jumped out of bed and jogged after her. “What is going on?”

“My mother’s addiction is about to make the front page,” Clarke growled, not even stopping as she powerwalked toward the guest room. “I’m flying back now to deal with it.”

“Clarke,” he said, grabbing her hand. Her eyes were rattled when she met his, like a million thoughts were going through her head at once. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she muttered before removing her hand from his. “I just have to go. Got to be there for the press release so we can look like a functioning family and address it.”

He followed her into the guest room, trying to make sense of what happened as she threw her things back into her suitcase. “I can pack up my stuff and come with you,” he offered.

“No, you’re meeting with constituents today. It’ll look bad if you cancel,” she mumbled, shoving her curling iron into her bag.

“Clarke, this is more important.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle on my own, okay?” she snapped, not even looking up at him. He could feel the familiar distancing, the one he felt back in Memphis.

“Okay,” he whispered. Bellamy didn’t understand why she wasn’t talking to him, especially after their conversation last night. He knew she didn’t want to be alone, so he couldn’t understand why she was doing everything she could to make herself feel alone right now.

As Clarke snapped her suitcase shut, she finally looked up at him. “Bellamy,” she murmured before shutting her eyes. “I have to ask you this. Did you tell anyone?”

“What?” he blurted out. “Of course not. Clarke, why would you think that?”

“I didn’t say I did,” she clarified, ever the lawyer. “But considering we have kept this under wraps for years with no problems, and the only difference now is you, I had to ask.”

“Well, I didn’t,” he snapped.

“Not even Kane? Murphy? Miller?” she prodded. He knew who put this thought into her head. It was her grandfather. Clarke never doubted Bellamy. They trusted each other. Her family was in her head right now, convincing her that it was somehow him.

“No,” he groaned.

“Okay,” she said, before checking her phone. “My ride is here.”

She had her suitcase and purse in hand, ready to walk out the door, but he darted in front of her. “Wait, we need to talk about this.”

“We just did,” she replied simply. “I asked you if you told anyone, and you said no. So, now everything is fine.” She sounded just like she did when she was working, like Bellamy was some client who was lying to her. And he hated it.

“Everything is not fine. You just accused me.”

“I asked you a question,” she snapped.

“Questions are just sneaky accusations. You’ve done it enough to people on the stand to know that, Clarke,” he huffed.

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered.

“Clarke,” he said, voice low. He could feel his blood start to boil. His temper was something that had taken years to control, but every now and then, he could feel it start to take over. Bellamy took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he said something he didn’t mean. He didn’t want to give in to the Blake temper, not with Clarke. He didn’t want to treat the people he cared about like Octavia does. “Why did you accuse me? You trust me,” he asked calmly.

“I do,” she snapped, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “But I had to make sure. I just lied to my grandfather when he asked if I had told you so that he wouldn’t jump to the conclusion that you are our leak.”

“Clarke—”

“I have to go,” she muttered, brushing past him. “We’ll talk about this when you come home. But I can’t do this right now. I need to get back to my mom.”

He followed after her, grabbing her arm before she opened the front door. He couldn't let her leave like this... not on these terms. “Come here,” he whispered, extending his arms. After a beat, she finally closed the distance and let him hold her for a second. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk about this when everything is settled. Go take care of your mom.” He kissed the top of her head before letting her go. But the panic was still coursing through his system along with a dash of anger at that accusation. Everything felt too unsettled as Clarke walked out the door, leaving Bellamy behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so it begins


	11. The Wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a few things:
> 
> 1) I'm very behind on this fic for personal reasons, so I'm only going to be updating once a week until I catch up. Sorry!
> 
> 2) Clarke is going to say some not very nice things to her mother about her addiction. If that is going to be the kind of thing that will bother you, I suggest skipping over that part of the chapter. She's just really angry and her mom was the one to push her over the edge. 
> 
> 3) Thank you guys so much for the BFWA votes on this fic. It really means a lot to me that you guys like it that much. Love y'all!

Bellamy assumed the strategy for tackling the leak would involve keeping a low profile. After all, when things have hit the fan for Bellamy in the past, it was how he avoided getting into more trouble. It worked when his mom would bust him for coming in after curfew and it worked whenever he got attacked for an unpopular city council decision. It seemed like the most logical solution to the nightmare that had been the leak of Abby Griffin’s addiction to the Post.

Which was why Bellamy was confused by the massive engagement party being thrown together not a week later. But the Griffin family did politics differently… something he didn’t fully understand until now. They didn’t duck into hiding. No, they made themselves into an even bigger spectacle.

Honestly, it was incredible to watch. Richard and Clarke stood behind Abby as she held a press conference the day it leaked. She admitted the addiction, though she completely lied about its severity and implied that it was years ago. Abby Griffin even so much as told a reporter from the New York Times that she was glad she helped their “little newspaper” sell a few extra copies that day. Clarke went on the offensive, sitting down for an interview where she blamed the stressors of having the media stalking both her and her mother after Jake Griffin’s death as contributors to her mother’s addiction… which he wasn’t sure Clarke actually believed. But Clarke’s grandfather took that clip and ran with it, getting Fox to spin the whole scandal as old news that the liberal media dredged up to make headlines. And anyone who hadn’t already bought the story had their heart ripped out as Clarke and Abby did a joint interview, both of them crying as they recounted what happened to Jake and how hard it was for both of them. They held hands as Abby apologized for the hell she had put Clarke through and thanked her for helping her through it all those years ago, as if this were some distant thing. And then, right when Bellamy thought it was done, Abby told Jasper Jordan with teary eyes, “It would be one thing if this was just about me. But my daughter, who has been through so much, is being dragged into it with me. Clarke got engaged over the holidays to Senator Bellamy Blake, you know. That’s what I wish we were talking about tonight. I wish we were celebrating her finding love again and us welcoming in a new member of our family instead of focusing on my personal struggle.”

And after all that, anyone who said a damn thing about Abby Griffin’s addiction looked like an insensitive asshole. Raven said their numbers were all higher than ever. And it made sense. The sympathy the nation felt for Abby and Clarke already gave them a great deal of political power, but this only reminded the public of it. In less than a week, Abby Griffin used this as a platform to start a new charity to raise awareness for addiction and President Jaha publicly commended her for what she is doing… meaning Abby Griffin was in the clear.

As for the rest of them, Bellamy wasn’t so sure. Richard Walters lingered around Washington. Luckily, Kane intercepted him before Bellamy had to talk to him and reassured him that Bellamy was not the leak. It was weird that Bellamy still hadn’t spoken to Clarke’s grandfather, especially considering he was marrying Clarke, but he wasn’t about to initiate a conversation with one of the scariest men in politics.

 Clarke was on edge, though Bellamy only knew that from their few brief phone calls over the last few days. Tonight was the first time he saw her in person since she ran out of his house back in Nashville… and it still felt like she was avoiding him.

“Stop,” Raven grumbled.

“Stop what?” he huffed.

“Stop looking like a neglected puppy. She’s busy, not avoiding you,” she snapped, and Bellamy jerked his eyes away from Clarke to look at Raven.

“Then, why hasn’t she said more than two words to me since I got here?” He could see Clarke was busy. She had been running around, barking off orders for the event and taking an obscene amount of phone calls. But Clarke always stopped to talk to Bellamy before. Something was wrong here. She was pushing him away just like she did back in Memphis.

“Probably because you’re the leak.”

“I am not,” Bellamy growled. Everyone had accused him of it… Clarke, her mother, her grandfather, Kane, Murphy… and now Raven? “You know I wouldn’t leak that.”

“They’ve been hiding this for years. They’ve bought off all the right people and figured out how to keep it a secret from the public without even a hint of a leak. The only difference now is you, so by process of elimination, you have to be the leak.”

Bellamy bit down on his lip, trying to keep from blowing up just moments before his engagement party started. It was getting harder and harder to keep his temper in check with everyone around him accusing him of something he didn’t do. He was careful. He respected Clarke’s wishes that it stayed between them. He would never do this to Clarke.

He was about to point that out to Raven when Clarke showed up with two glasses of champagne in hand. “Ready?” she asked with a smile, handing his drink to him. Her hair was up tonight, pinned back tightly. Her dress was more conservative than normal, a higher neckline and more muted shade of blue.

“Oh, now you’re talking to me?” he muttered before his brain could stop him, and he instantly regretted his words. Clarke’s smile fell right off her face, her eyes narrowing in a way that he wasn’t used to having directed at him.

“Jesus Christ,” Raven huffed as she stomped off.

Clarke’s eyes didn’t leave Bellamy’s, though she did wait for Raven to be out of earshot before speaking. “Bellamy,” she whispered, voice low. “We are not doing this tonight, understood?”

It was a tone he had heard before. She had it occasionally when on the phone with clients or her mother. She had it when she went off to that reporter about McCreary. But she had never had it when talking to Bellamy, and that scared him. It was the tone she used when she was trying to cover up her anger. The voice she used to mask her desire to scream. And for the first time, she had to use it on him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, desperate to make that look in her eyes disappear. He disliked seeing it normally, but he didn’t realize how much it would sting to have it directed at him. And it hurt all the more now that he knew what Clarke was like when she was completely relaxed. He had seen her sleepy smile in the morning and heard her shy giggle just a week ago, and now it felt like that girl he was with back home had vanished. “I wasn’t thinking. I just—”

He was cut off by the sound of the first guests arriving. He straightened up automatically, plastering on a smile to match Clarke’s. Whatever real discussion they need to have would have to wait. They were back to being a spectacle… and he felt farther away from Clarke than ever despite her leaning into his side. He turned to kiss her cheek, but Clarke jerked her head away before his lips touched the skin.

“Clarke,” he pleaded, and she just smiled up at him as if nothing were wrong. Right, there were people watching them now. They weren’t the real Bellamy and Clarke anymore.

 

* * *

 

During the toasts, Bellamy found himself playing with Clarke’s hand to relax. It was hard not to grit his teeth as Richard Walters gave the fakest toast he had ever heard or as Abby Griffin sang Bellamy’s praises as if she had met him prior to tonight.

He was aching to be back home again… which is something Bellamy never thought he’d want. After Octavia left, there wasn’t much back home for him. But it was different when Clarke was there. The world was still as quiet, but it didn’t feel lonely. It just felt peaceful and warm. They weren’t putting on a show for anyone. It was just Bellamy and Clarke being happy and together.

But here, they were acting like nothing was wrong as they mingled and listened to Washington’s elite take turns congratulating them. And when Clarke stepped out to go to the bathroom, Bellamy took the opportunity to go stand with Kane in the corner. At least Kane was never fake with him.

“Go mingle,” Kane muttered before taking another sip of his scotch.

“I need a break. Why are you in such a shitty mood?” Bellamy asked, giving the man a once over. Kane looked tired… tired enough to not even pretend to be in a good mood tonight.

“I don’t like being lied to,” he huffed.

“Clarke asked me not to tell you,” Bellamy reminded.

“I’m not talking about you. You’re a politician. We all expect you to lie,” he said, rolling his eyes. Bellamy resented the implication that Bellamy had lied to any of them. He hadn’t. Not once. “So, how long have you and Clarke being sleeping together?” Bellamy’s eyes widened as he turned back to look at Kane. “What? It’s the only explanation I can come up with for why she’s still claiming you aren’t the leak when everyone knows it’s you.”

“It’s not me,” Bellamy snapped, getting really damn tired of being accused of this.

“You better hope it’s not. Clarke is on a deadline to figure out who it is before Walters decides to step in and deal with you himself.” Bellamy’s eyes darted across the room, spotting Clarke’s grandfather in a conversation with McCreary. After a beat, his eyes met Bellamy’s, a quiet accusation behind them, before turning back to face McCreary. Bellamy had no intention of figuring out what Kane meant by Clarke’s grandfather _dealing with_ him. “So, I’m right? You two are sleeping together?”

“That’s none of your business,” Bellamy muttered. He kept his eyes on McCreary and Walters, not liking just how chummy the two of them were. After all, if anyone were to pull something to hurt his family, it would be McCreary. He threatened Clarke already. It wasn’t too far of a stretch to think that he would go after Abby too.

“It is if it’s going to distract you both and cause more problems like it is tonight,” Kane reminded, and Bellamy jerked his head in his direction.

“Wouldn’t it be a good thing? Wasn’t that the goal? To be the next Jake and Abby?”

“You don’t want to be Jake and Abby,” he blurted out, and Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows.

“Clarke said—”

“Clarke has blind spots… clearly,” Kane said, pointedly eyeing Bellamy. There was something very off about Kane tonight, and it couldn’t just be the leak that was bothering him. “Just trust me. You don’t want to end up like them.”

Bellamy was about to push him on the subject when Zeke came jogging up to them. “Senator Blake, have you seen Clarke?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

“She just stepped out,” Bellamy replied, though she had been gone longer than she should have been. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to update her on something,” he said, and Bellamy bit down on his lip. This was clearly about finding the leak since Clarke didn’t let work interfere with these kinds of events.

“I’ll go find her for you,” Bellamy replied before stepping out the back door. It was a little easier to breathe out in the hallway. Less noise, no rich donors sizing him up.

He asked the woman who stepped out of the bathroom if Clarke had been in there, but she shook her head no. So, with a groan, Bellamy continued on down the hallway, looking for his fiancée. He passed a few people on the way, meaning he had to stop and make pleasant small talk. But eventually, he got to the more secluded bathrooms, the kind Clarke would beeline to if she needed a moment of quiet.

He was about to knock on the door when he heard Abby Griffin’s voice. “You need to think about what this is doing to your family. What it’s doing to me.”

“Are you kidding me?” Clarke growled, causing Bellamy to jump before pressing his ear closer to the door. “That is all I ever get to think about.”

“Clarke.”

“Did I ever get to be honest about who I am? No, because I had to think about what that would do to my father’s campaign. Did I get to leave Washington after my nervous breakdown? No, because who would have been there to take care of you?”

“That is—”

“Should I go back even further? Why was I even born, Mom? Was it because you and Dad were just so full of love and wanted a baby or was it because Grandpa said having a pregnant wife would give Dad a small boost with conservative voters and women during his reelection?” she spat. Bellamy clenched his eyes shut, not sure he had ever heard Clarke this angry before.

“We are not having this fight again,” Abby yelled, causing Bellamy to jump. “This is different,” she continued, taking her voice down to an almost whisper. “I warned you that this would hurt us at some point. This story about me never would have gotten out if you hadn’t told him.” Bellamy’s face paled. This argument was about _him_.

“There wouldn’t be a story about you if you had turned to me instead of a bottle of pills,” Clarke snapped, and Bellamy’s eyes widened. He felt like he should knock on the door or interrupt them somehow to put a stop to this.

“My husband just died, so don’t—”

“Yeah, I know. I was there. I was just feet away when it happened, just like you. And we could have been there for each other, but _you_ pulled away. _You_ started down this path. And I know from our sessions that I’m not supposed to blame you. But why should I have to stop when you and Grandpa and everyone else in my life never hesitate to blame me when things go wrong?”

“We never blame you.”

“Yes, you do! You’re doing it right now. Grandpa is the one who made all these enemies who wouldn’t hesitate to throw us to the wolves if given the chance. You’re the cause of the scandal. And somehow, I am spending my engagement party taking turns being yelled at by both of you for something that isn’t my fucking fault!”

“Clarke,” Bellamy called out through the door, not able to take this fight anymore. Both women went completely silent, panicked that he could have heard any of that.

After a beat, she said, “Be there in a sec.” He paced outside the door, their voices now muffled whispers. Finally, Abby Griffin stepped out with a plastered smile on her face.

“You two better not be away from the party too long,” Abby said in a warm voice, patting Bellamy on the shoulder as she walked by. Bellamy waited for her to turn the corner before stepping into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

“Just give me a second,” Clarke whispered. She was leaning over the bathroom counter, dabbing around her eyes with a tissue.

“Clarke,” he murmured as he stepped toward her. “Look at me.”

Her blue eyes flickered up to meet his, teary and wide. The guard she had up all night seemed to be gone now, and he’d be relieved for it… except he knew the reason it was down was because she was breaking down, not because she felt she could relax around him.

Bellamy wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on top of hers. She was shaky as she relaxed into him, and Bellamy’s concerns were growing too fast. When had she last slept? God knows she pushed herself to the limits when she was on a case, so who knows how badly she’s been taking care of herself while getting through this scandal, Did she have anyone to talk to about this since she wasn’t talking to Bellamy? How many times had she and her mother gotten into fights like these?

“We’re going to be okay,” he whispered to her.

“I know,” she mumbled into his shirt before sucking in a deep breath. “Why did you come looking for me?”

“Zeke was asking for you,” he replied, and Clarke pulled back immediately. “He can wait.”

“No, he can’t,” she muttered before he grabbed her hand.

“Clarke, you need to talk to me,” Bellamy argued. “You are not okay.”

“Yeah, and I won’t be until this is done,” she snapped. Her eyes were full of panic, something he wasn’t used to yet. Clarke had always been so confident, so sure of herself. He wasn’t sure how to make that come back… how to keep the panic out of her beautiful eyes. “Just… I need to take care of this, okay?”

“You two in there?” he heard Raven call out from outside the door, and he let out a groan. “Miles and I figured something out.”

“Who the fuck is Miles?” Bellamy muttered.

“Zeke is Miles,” Clarke groaned as she unlocked the bathroom door.

“Your name is Miles?” Bellamy asked him as he and Raven shut the door behind them and locked it. Bellamy took a step back into the wall, suddenly feeling claustrophobic with how many people were now locked in this tiny bathroom.

“My name is Zeke. Never call me Miles,” he warned.

“You let Raven call you Miles,” he pointed out.

“She’s pretty and smart as hell, so she can call me whatever the hell she wants. You call me Zeke,” he said, and a smirk formed on Bellamy’s lips. “Anyway,” he said, now looking at Clarke, “Raven just told me that they don’t sweep for bugs regularly.”

“Because normal people don’t have to do that,” Raven huffed in annoyance. “Do you seriously sweep Clarke’s place on a regular basis?”

“Every day at four p.m. sharp,” Clarke whispered, her jaw clenched as she looked up toward the ceiling.

“And her office every morning.”

“He checks my phone and car twice a week.”

“Is all that really necessary?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke bit down on her lip.

“It’s to keep her family from spying on her, so yeah. Like once a month we find a bug,” Zeke explained. Bellamy’s eyes widened at Clarke, whose gaze was still cast up toward the ceiling. “Anyway, give me your phone and all your keys so we can find your bug.”

“That’s how it got out,” Bellamy realized, and Clarke’s jaw was tense as she nodded. After a beat, he grabbed his keys and phone from his pockets and handed them over, pointing out which were his office and apartment keys.

“I’m driving,” Zeke said as they swung the bathroom door open.

“Like hell you are,” Raven huffed as she trailed after him.

Bellamy’s eyes stayed fixed on Clarke as the door slammed shut behind them, waiting for her to say something. He could see her thinking, trying to figure out what to do or say. After all, he really was the leak. She had to be angry or frustrated. There had to be something on her tongue that she just had to get out. But when she still didn’t say anything, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“They’ll find it and figure out who was behind it. It’ll be fine,” Clarke said, her eyes not meeting his. “And we’ll do regular sweeps for you too now that we know this is an issue. It won’t happen again.”

“Hey,” he whispered, stepping in front of her so that she had to look at him. Her eyes looked a bit lost, like her thoughts were racing and she couldn’t focus. “I’m really sorry. This is my fault.”

“You didn’t know,” she told him. “And why would you have? No one has ever done this to you before. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

“It’s clearly not fine, Clarke. I heard you with your mom,” he snapped, and panic flashed behind her eyes. “Will you please talk to me? I’m so worried about you.” He could hear his own voice break as he spoke, the days of panic and concern catching up with him. And that caused her blue eyes to soften.

“I can’t,” she whispered, fluttering her eyes shut. “If I start talking, I’m going to cry and hyperventilate and break down, and I don’t get to do that when there are hundreds of people in this building who are just waiting for me to crack. I can’t. I just can’t.”

It scared him to think about how many moments of her life had been like this. How many times she had to put up a front so she didn’t break in front of the wolves of Washington. How often that smiling façade covered the heartbreak that came from being in this world.

Bellamy put his hand under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. She was struggling to keep the tears back. His girl had been forced to stay strong for too long. “Okay,” he murmured, his thumb tracing over her cheek. He let his lips rest on her forehead as she relaxed into him. He counted her deep breaths as she calmed herself down.

When Clarke pulled away, she looked almost back to normal… well enough to get back out there and mingle. He stopped her before she moved toward the door, leaning down to press a hard kiss to her lips. “I missed you,” he whispered against her lips. He missed getting the real Clarke instead of seeing mere glimpses.

“I missed you too,” she sighed before kissing him again.


	12. The Leak

Bellamy listened to the sound of Clarke’s heels clacking as she paced back and forth, counting her steps as a way to keep himself calm. There was nothing in his phone or car. It took a while for Raven and Zeke to go through his entire apartment, and it turned out to be a waste of time. So that meant it had to be his office, which was the second scariest of the possibilities. He was thankful it wasn’t his phone, but his office was almost as bad. There was no telling how long it could have been in there and what all could have been discussed in there. He knew for a fact that he and Kane talked campaign strategy in there all the time, which would be damning information if put into the hands to his future opponent.

Clarke seemed just as anxious as he did, perhaps more so even. And why wouldn’t she be? Jaha warned him that his actions had direct consequences for her. So, Bellamy couldn’t get past the fact that they wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for him. If he had been a bit more vigilant, if he had a bit more experience… he would have had Raven check for bugs. This could have been prevented if he was just better at this whole thing.

It hurt so much worse knowing how this nightmare had been affecting Clarke. As the night went on, her exhaustion became more visible. Her makeup hid the bags under her eyes, but it couldn’t hide the slump in her shoulders or the constant fighting to keep her eyes open. And then, there was the emotional toll it was taking on her. That fight with her mom didn’t just come out of nowhere. He had heard Clarke have disagreements with her mom on the phone before, and they never came to blows like they did tonight. Clarke hit her breaking point, which Bellamy previously thought impossible. And Bellamy couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault.

When Raven stepped out of his office, she kept a finger of her lips, reminding them both to stay silent. With a small flick of her head, she gestured for them to follow. Bellamy stepped in after Clarke, keeping a hand firmly at her back.

Zeke was sitting at Bellamy’s desk with a small device in his hand, eyeing it appreciatively. Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows, wondering where it had been hidden. When he glanced over at Raven, she was holding up the framed picture of him and Octavia that always sat at his desk, pointing to where it had been hidden right underneath the stand, completely out of sight. He bit down on his tongue to keep from cursing, but he wanted to scream.

That picture never left its spot on his desk. He never touched it. He never looked at it. He didn’t want to look at it. On occasion, someone would comment on it or ask about his sister, but it mostly went unnoticed. And Bellamy could only think of one time where someone interacted with it.

His knuckles paled as he clenched his fists, and Clarke’s eyes went wide in a panic as she peered up at him. After a beat, her hand slid over his, softly reminding him to relax. He let out a shallow breath and let Clarke pull him from his office. Raven gestured for them to leave, and it wasn’t like Bellamy or Clarke could actually help them at this point, so Bellamy let Clarke guide him out of the building and into her car.

“How would you have known it was there?” Clarke asked in a reassuring voice. Her hand rested over his as she turned in her seat to look at him.

“Because I thought it was weird when Senator Diyoza picked it up,” Bellamy muttered.

“What are you talking about?” Clarke asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“She came in to talk to me about my vote for Diana Sydney,” he muttered, shaking his head. He was so unfocused that day. He was worried about Clarke because of all the coverage of her mourning Wells. He was worn down by Kane who wanted him to vote to confirm Sydney. And he was so thrown by Diyoza showing up to work with him that he wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing with that damn picture frame. “She sat down, told me she and Roan were going to vote no, asked me to do the same to keep Sydney out… and she was fiddling with that picture, Clarke. And I was distracted because—”

He cut himself off before finishing that sentence. Clarke didn’t need to know that she was the reason he wasn’t paying attention. That wouldn’t help anything.

“Unless someone broke into a senator’s office, which is damn near impossible, it had to be her,” Bellamy explained, praying she wouldn’t push for why he didn’t see it happen.

“Why would she do this?” Clarke asked. Her voice wasn’t skeptical, but curious. She was looking for motive.

“Fuck if I know. I thought it was McCreary somehow,” Bellamy muttered. That would make far more sense. After all, he had already threatened Clarke and would love a chance to take a swing at Bellamy.

“It was McCreary,” Clarke huffed, and he snapped his head up.

“What?”

“He’s who got it to the press. But that doesn’t explain how he got it in the first place. Only Diyoza could explain that at this point.”

“How do you know that? Did your grandfather figure that out?”

“No, he doesn’t believe me since he has McCreary in his pocket,” Clarke sighed, pushing a fallen strand back behind her ear. “But my source is good. It was him. I just gotta prove it.”

“Your source? You have a source?”

“Bellamy, do you think I’d be this good at my job if I didn’t have eyes and ears everywhere?” Clarke groaned. He snapped his mouth shut, though he felt uneasy about it still. He didn’t know how Clarke spent her last week and how exactly she got these answers, and he was understandably concerned about it. He was quite familiar with how major players in Washington got things done and what shady means they used to do it, and he knew that Clarke’s family were the best at it. He just hadn’t realized until now that those strategies would have been passed down to Clarke. After all, she grew up in all of this. And Kane said she knew how to play the game better than most… but the real meaning of that hadn’t hit Bellamy until now. “So, how sure are you that Diyoza planted it?”

“Completely certain. Zeke and Raven will confirm it if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” she said before resting her head against the headrest. “I just have to figure out why Diyoza would hand that info over to McCreary.”

“Clarke, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. McCreary wouldn’t be so dead set on ruining them both if Bellamy had stopped poking that bear. They would have found the device sooner if Bellamy had been paying attention. And the person who has been hurt the most was Clarke. Her grandfather had forced himself back into her life, had been jerking her around all week. She is being blamed by her own family for this, which clearly brought back some horrible memories for her. And it was bringing out this side of her that scared the hell out of him. He just wanted his Clarke back.

“Stop apologizing.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Why are you so determined to blame yourself for anything that goes wrong?” Clarke asked. He blinked a few times at her question. “McCreary leaked it. Diyoza violated your privacy. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His eyes dropped to his hands, thinking that over. The only thing he was really guilty of was inexperience. He hadn’t been burned before. He didn’t grow up in a family where leaks were a regular problem. He just wasn’t programmed to expect the worst from the people around him.

But he still blamed himself. It was second nature to Bellamy. He was so used to hearing that everything was his fault that he now believed it. And maybe he thought that if he blamed himself first, it wouldn’t hurt as much when Octavia eventually did.

 

* * *

 

It took another day for Raven to confirm it was Diyoza’s device, and Bellamy had a hard time pretending he knew nothing as he sat through the morning session. He wanted to clench his fist every time McCreary spoke and wanted to scream whenever his eyes fell on Diyoza. But he kept calm, just counting down the moments until this whole thing was put to bed.

Clarke was waiting for him in his office, wearing the black skirt suit she usually saved for court. She was flipping through a file, a focused look in her eyes as she did. “The meeting is in two minutes,” he reminded her, and she just nodded in response.

“Bellamy, are you sure you wouldn’t rather if we just handled this?” Kane asked, patting him on the shoulder after walking up behind him.

“Diyoza did this to me. I have to at least be in the room,” Bellamy reminded. It wasn’t the first time Kane or Clarke had asked, and that concerned him. He had noticed the looks between them, the way Clarke went quiet when Bellamy asked what “whatever means necessary” meant to her, the nervous look in Kane’s eye every time Bellamy insisted on being a part of this. At the end of the day, Bellamy didn’t trust how either of them would take care of this if he wasn’t in the room. “I am going to talk to her like a rational adult and get her to explain why she betrayed me to help McCreary. Both of you, stop acting like I can’t handle that.” After letting out a breath, Bellamy fell into his seat. He could do this. It was just a normal day on the Hill.

“That’s not what I meant,” Kane snapped, looking to Clarke for support, but her eyes were focused on the work in front of her, her brows knitted as she stared the folder down. Kane was about to say something else when the door swung open.

“Sorry, I’m a bit early, but my husband surprised me and wants to take me out to lunch, so I figured we could get this meeting started a bit early,” Diyoza announced, beelining for one of the chairs across from Bellamy. Kane shot Bellamy a warning look before taking a seat beside Diyoza. Clarke moved to stand behind Bellamy, resting her back against the bookshelves.

“Of course, that’s fine,” Bellamy said with a forced smile. But Charmaine Diyoza wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes had dropped to the picture frame on his desk before they snapped back up to his. “Don’t bother checking. I had the device removed.”

Any possibility of denying it went out the door as her eyes grew wide and her face paled. She started to recover as she stared Bellamy down, her eyes almost emotionless, but then Clarke cleared her throat. It was a subtle reminder that Bellamy wasn’t the only one Diyoza had screwed over here, and the senator’s eyes faltered as she looked past Bellamy to see Clarke.

“Well?” Bellamy huffed when she didn’t say anything.

“I think this meeting is over,” she finally said, pushing herself up.

“I wouldn’t leave if I were you,” Kane warned her, and Diyoza’s jaw clenched.

“I want to know why you bugged my office and offered intel to McCreary,” Bellamy said as calmly as he could. She froze for a moment, her eyes calculating as she thought.

A smirk formed on her lips as she braced her hands on the back of the chair. She glanced over at Kane in annoyance, as if this meeting were just some inconvenience. “What is your strategy here? I have no reason to tell you three anything.”

“So, you aren’t worried about how Richard Walters will react when he finds out you’re responsible for this PR nightmare?” Bellamy snapped, and Diyoza just rolled her eyes.

“What’s he going to do? Pull my funding? There isn’t another electable Republican from my state. I am all he’s got. Sure, he’ll be pissed, but he’s a business man first, a family man second. Isn’t that right, Clarke?” she sneered, and Bellamy’s eyes darted over to Kane in a panic.

Senator Diyoza turned to leave, and Bellamy felt like he was going to throw up. She was going to get away with this. And McCreary too.

“Senator, how is your daughter enjoying Arkadia Elementary?” Clarke asked in a sweet voice, and Bellamy whipped his head around to look at her. He couldn’t read her, which terrified him. “Hope, isn’t it?”

Charmaine turned around, brows furrowed as she gave Clarke a once over. “Yes, she likes it just fine,” she replied. Bellamy didn’t like the way that Kane’s eyes stared down at his hands, almost flinching at their conversation.

“You ever bring her to work with you? I used to love it when my dad took me to work with him,” Clarke said casually, making small talk with an enemy like there weren’t more pressing matters at hand. He couldn’t figure out what she was trying here. The gentle tone of her voice reminded him of how she tried to trip people up in an argument, like she was trying to lull Diyoza into some false sense of security before ripping the answers from her. But it was as Diyoza said, there is nothing they can do to her to make her talk. She wanted nothing from them, and they posed no threat to her.

“No,” she huffed, clearly irritated by Clarke. “She’d get bored.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy whispered. This was pointless. It wasn’t like Clarke could sweet talk Diyoza into fessing up. Frankly, Bellamy just wanted Diyoza out of his office so they could strategize next steps.

But Clarke didn’t even look at Bellamy, instead keeping her gaze fixed on Senator Diyoza. “Oh, I’m not so sure about that. There are lots of interesting things going on here. You could teach her about government, show her all the beautiful artwork in the building, or introduce her to her biological father.” Bellamy’s eyes went wide as he looked over at Diyoza, whose posture had stiffened as she stared at Clarke completely slack-jawed. Clarke’s voice remained warm and sweet as she asked, “Does McCreary even know she’s his?”

Kane was leaning back in his seat, almost smiling in Clarke’s direction. Bellamy realized this was their back up plan, the leverage they needed to get Diyoza to talk… and it scared him that his first thought was _thank God_. He shook that out of his head, reminding himself how much this crossed a line, how dirty it was… and that Bellamy Blake was above all that. He was supposed to be. He wanted to be.

“I don’t know what you think—” Diyoza started to say.

“I don’t _think_ anything. I know about your little affair and your meet ups at the Eligius Hotel every Wednesday at 5 p.m. I know about your paternity test. And I know that your kind husband who dotes on Hope hasn’t the faintest idea that his high school sweetheart has been screwing Senator Paxton McCreary behind his back,” Clarke growled.

Diyoza fell back into her chair, her eyes narrowed as she glared at Clarke. “The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, did it, Griffin?” she hissed. “Your grandfather must be so proud.” Clarke’s jaw clenched, and Bellamy bit down on his lip. His gut reaction was to defend Clarke, to say that they’re nothing alike. He might not have seen the resemblance before, but he saw it now.

“I am not my grandfather,” Clarke declared. “And that should worry you. See, to my grandfather, you are useful. He needs you to hold onto your seat for as long as you can. It’ll be very close this election season with so many Republican seats up for grabs. He needs every single one of them to hold on if he wants his majority. But I don’t give a shit what happens to the party. So, to me, you are expendable.”

“I think she gets the picture,” Bellamy murmured to Clarke. But there was a look in Clarke’s eyes that worried him. It was one he only got a brief glimmer of the night of their engagement party when Bellamy snapped at her. She was pissed… which meant she wasn’t finished just yet.

“The way I see it, you have two options. This info could be leaked. Every attack ad launched against you will focus heavily on your affair. Perhaps you’ll resign in disgrace. McCreary won’t really be affected since he’s a man, but you’ll be dragged through the mud as your husband tries to take you for everything you’re worth. And then Hope—”

“Stop,” Diyoza snapped.

“Or,” Kane stepped in, and Clarke let out a breath, “you tell us what we want to know.”

Clarke’s eyes finally met Bellamy’s, and he had to grip the arm of his chair to keep from getting angry. She should have told him about this. Both of them should have. Bellamy wasn’t like them. He wasn’t comfortable with using personal scandal to get what he wants, especially when a kid was involved. Frankly, it scared him that Clarke was okay with it. That she had time to think over her best course of action, and she _chose_ this.

“I need the Senate leadership’s support for my campaign,” Diyoza muttered, her eyes falling shut. “The numbers are against me, so I need people like McCreary to publicly endorse me to rally the base to come out and vote in November.”

“And you buy their support with information,” Clarke said, and Diyoza nodded. Bellamy let out a quiet groan. He wanted to ask why she had to bribe the man she’s sleeping with to help her out, but he thought better of it. “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”

“I don’t see how that is something you need to know,” she snapped before her eyes drifted to Bellamy. “It’s nothing personal. I have the recordings, and when I need a favor, I pass information along.”

“Obviously, I need you to hand the ones from this office over to me,” Kane said. Well, at least Bellamy would find out what Diyoza learned about him, though Bellamy imagined he was about to spend a lot of long nights weeding through these recordings.

“I’ll get them to you after—”

“You will hand them over right now,” Bellamy snapped, jaw clenched. “Kane, go with her.”

He sat there in silence, tapping his fingers on his desk, as he watched Diyoza and Kane shuffle out of his office. He would have to talk to Kane later about whatever the fuck just happened in this meeting, but it wasn’t like Bellamy should be surprised. He knew Kane wasn’t above this.

But Clarke… he had feared she wasn’t either, yet he hoped she would surprise him.

“I should get going too. I need to do some work before I meet with my client,” Clarke mumbled.

“Wait, I need to talk to you,” Bellamy said as calmly as he could as he paced over to his door. He peered out it, only seeing Maya left. “Hey, Maya? Why don’t you go ahead and take an early lunch?”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes widening in confusion. “Okay, yeah.” He shot her a smile as she grabbed her things, taking a deep breath as he stepped back into his office. Clarke was now leaning against his desk, crossing her arms.

Bellamy stood there in silence, waiting to hear Maya close the door behind her, before muttering, “What the hell was that?”

“I was killing the leak, just like I said I would,” Clarke clarified, cocking her head to the side.

“By blackmailing a senator?” he huffed, stepping toward her. “You literally used her daughter against her. What would you have done if she called your bluff?”

“It wasn’t a bluff, Bellamy,” Clarke snapped. His eyes widened at her, not sure he was hearing her correctly. But it was exactly what he had been scared of. Clarke was truly willing to tear Diyoza’s family apart just to put this to bed.

“I get that this is personal for you. She hurt your mom. And I know having this kind of public exposure isn’t good for her recovery, but—”

“This isn’t about my mom!”

“Then what made it okay for you to threaten her family like that?” Bellamy shouted. When her eyes widened in a panic, he regretted his tone. He doesn’t normally yell at anyone, not anymore. It was something that took years to work on, and it was a nasty, angry habit he didn’t want to bring back… certainly not directed at Clarke.

But his entire body was tense after all the stress thrown onto him because of this leak. The accusation she tossed at him back in Nashville still lingered in his mind, still kept him up at night. The assumption that he had to be the leak by everyone around him had weighed on him… a constant reminder that no one in this town would ever really trust him, maybe not even Clarke. And the fact that he ended up accidentally being the source of the leak was just the icing on the cake.

One leak flipped his understanding of him and Clarke upside down. After all these months of not knowing what was going on in her head and how she felt about him, he thought he had figured it out. He thought they were finally in a place where they could relax and just be the couple they had pretended to be for the cameras. He thought he had seen the real Clarke buried beneath the stoic mask.

He fell so hard and fast for her that he forgot she had claws. That she knew how to ruin someone. That she had been taught since birth how to do this sort of thing.

“Do you think this was the only piece of intel she could sell off to McCreary?” Clarke finally whispered. Her jaw was tense, and he could tell she wanted to scream. But she kept her voice calm and averted her gaze to keep from glaring at him. “She has been listening to every meeting, every phone call, every strategy session with Kane. She knows which donors you’re courting, and she knows how you plan to vote on bills and nominees before anyone else does.”

“That doesn’t justify—”

“She has heard you talk about your sister,” Clarke said, eyes shooting up to meet his. “And sure, you probably didn’t say much about her. You rarely ever do. But she could look into her.”

“Worst case, she finds out that we aren’t close and she hangs out with some shady people,” he muttered.

“Worst case, she finds out that Octavia was arrested for domestic assault last year and again for assaulting an officer just a month ago,” Clarke snapped, jaw clenched.

“What?” Bellamy choked out. “No, that’s not… that has to be a mistake.”

“Her boyfriend didn’t press charges, but the officer sure as hell did. Isn’t that why Octavia asked you for that money?” Clarke asked, though it felt more like an accusation... like he had been keeping this from her.  

Bellamy fell back into his chair, shaking his head. He should have known. He should have been keeping an eye on Octavia. But he just assumed it would be easier if he didn’t know what she was up to. And now… it was so much worse than he could have imagined.

“If I had let Diyoza walk out that door, especially knowing that we knew, she’d have turned those recordings over to someone else. And I don’t have to tell you how horrible it would be if someone decided to look into your sister,” Clarke snapped, sounding a lot like she did while in court. It would be game over for Bellamy. The Blake family drama would be flaunted in attack ads and headlines. And if Clarke was right about the arrests, which Clarke was rarely ever wrong, there would be no explaining it away. No spins, no cover ups. It would ruin Octavia’s life. It would ruin Bellamy’s too.

“I know you think I’m a monster for threatening Diyoza’s family, but she threatened mine first.” He swallowed, hearing her voice break a little. Despite everything he overheard between Clarke and her mother, he knew they loved each other and that Clarke would do anything for her. He can’t imagine being in her shoes. If it had been his family that Diyoza told McCreary about, he wasn’t sure he would act differently. If this story about Octavia had broken, he would have to be physically restrained to keep from going after McCreary and Diyoza.

“Clarke—"

“I don’t regret it,” she cut him off. “And it wasn’t a bluff. I’d tear her family apart in a heartbeat if she tried to hurt you.”

Bellamy’s head snapped up, his eyes widening at her. The little _you are family_ she murmured on Christmas echoed in his mind. This really wasn’t about what Diyoza did to her mother… it’s what she could have done to Bellamy. _That_ was why Clarke crossed that line. For him.

He grabbed her hand when she tried to pull away, and she let out a groan of protest. He pushed himself up as she muttered, “I’ve got to get back to—”

“Please,” was all Bellamy whispered, and her blue eyes flickered up to meet his.

It felt like he was seeing her properly for the first time. The Clarke he saw in front of him was the real one… she didn’t disappear when hell was thrust onto her. She didn’t put up a stoic mask and become someone else. She hadn’t left. She was just scared, just trying to do what needed to be done in order to protect the ones she loved… but she didn’t leave.

He just couldn’t see it before. Not back when he had no idea that he was one of the few people Clarke Griffin loved.

He tilted her chin up with his fingers and kissed her. Not one of those chaste kisses they did for show at their engagement party, no. This one was hard and real, the kind he seared into her lips over and over back home.

She sighed into his mouth contentedly, and he hadn’t realized how much he missed that feeling. He found himself chasing it, walking her backwards until her legs hit his desk as he swallowed those happy little sounds she made. It hadn’t been that long since he had gotten to touch her like this, but God, he missed it. And it showed as he slammed his lips into hers, desperately trying to get as close to her as possible.

Clarke placed her palms on his chest, pushing him back far enough that he couldn’t reach her reddening lips with his own. “We are in your office,” Clarke reminded him breathlessly.

“We are alone in my office,” he corrected with a smirk, and she scrunched her nose up at him. He chuckled as he leaned forward, but she turned her head away before he could take her lips again. So, he kissed down her throat, savoring the quiet whimpers that escaped her. “Should I stop?” he murmured into her skin.

“Probably,” she said, though her voice sounded more like a whine. She wasn’t wrong. They probably should stop. But he couldn’t stop kissing her. He was drawn to her, aching to get his mouth on her.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, dragging his lips up her jaw. When he finally pulled his lips away, he felt Clarke tug at his collar, dragging him right back to where he was aching to be.

Her lips were bruising his as he inched her up onto his desk, his hands slowly pushing up her skirt. “I missed you,” she whispered, and Bellamy let out a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he admitted. “So damn much.” He snaked his hand between her legs, tracing her arousal through the fabric of her panties. They had to be quick if they wanted to be decent again before Kane got back, so Bellamy didn’t bother trying to get her panties off. He just pushed the fabric to the side and ran a finger down her slit.

He swore under his breath as she gripped the hair just above his neck. Once he found her aching clit, she clung to him a little harder, whimpering in time with his swift movements.

“Bell, more,” she whined into his ear, sending a shudder down his body.

“’Course you need more,” he hummed before slipping a finger inside her. She spread her legs a bit wider, her skirt rising up even higher. She opened her mouth, but he slid another finger in before she could even whine for him to give it to her. “That’s it.” Her lips parted against his neck, her breath hot on his skin.

The door in the main office swung open, and Bellamy stilled. He kept his other hand on Clarke’s back, keeping her from pulling away. “Bellamy, you still here?” Kane called out.

“Fuck,” Bellamy mumbled. When Clarke started to shift, he slammed his fingers back into her, savoring the tiny squeak she tried to muffle into his jacket. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec. Just gotta finish something real quick.”

“Bella—” she tried to warn before his fingers cut her off.

“Shh, just be nice and quiet for me.” She was too close for him to stop. No, his girl needed this, and he did too. He needed to feel how she rode his fingers, how she soaked his hand. Bellamy growled as her walls pulsed around his fingers, knowing she was nearly gone. “Come for me. Come for me right on my desk. Won’t be able to do a damn thing in here without thinking about you like this,” he growled right into her ear.

She gripped his face between her hands and crashed her lips onto his. It was a hard kiss at first, but as he fucked her with his fingers, her kisses grew messier from crying out against his lips. Her back arched, her fingers pulled at his shirt collar, and she was gone, a warm, blubbering mess as she murmured his name over and over.

“So good,” he cooed as he slipped his fingers from her. She watched him, a bit dazed, as he brought his fingers to his lips, taking a quick taste. “Very good.”

They were silent as he helped her down from his desk. A blush crept to her cheeks as she yanked her skirt down and ruffled her hair. Then, she licked her own fingers before rubbing a spot on his neck, the one that her lips had been glued to. “You don’t want to be that senator who shows up with lipstick on his neck,” she teased. He chuckled quietly, though his eyes darted toward the door. He hated that she had to leave and that he had to get back to work, but that just seemed to be how their life went.

He didn’t let her go when she moved toward the door, instead pulling her back by her hand. She quirked an eyebrow as he brought her left hand to his lips. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips when he saw his ring on Clarke’s finger. Every time he saw it, it gave him this odd kind of certainty, one he hadn’t known before her.

She ducked her head when he let go, her cheeks turning a faint pink. He followed her out the door, finding Kane working through the recordings Diyoza handed over. It took him a moment to notice them both, but when he did, he scrambled up to his feet. “Bellamy, I know you aren’t happy about how we handled Diyoza—”

“It had to be done,” Bellamy cut him off, his eyes darting over to Clarke. He didn’t like it. He could hardly stomach it. But Diyoza had to be dealt with as quickly as possible, or else who knows how much worse this could have gotten. It was a horrible call to make, but it was the best one given the circumstances. And he had to trust that Clarke was right.

Clarke gave him a silent nod, though he could see regret in her eyes. He knew if given the chance, she’d do it again. But he could see how much it hurt her to make that choice to begin with.

He kept his eyes on her until she slipped out the main door, and then, his eyes turned to Kane. “You have a file on my sister, don’t you?”

“Before you get angry with me—”

“I’m glad one of us has been keeping tabs on her,” Bellamy interrupted, and Kane blinked a few times, pleasantly surprised by his change in attitude. “But you should have told me how much trouble she had been getting into.”

“We had bigger concerns at the time,” Kane snapped, and Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Octavia keeps a low profile. Honestly, it had slipped my mind that this could have been something Diyoza would dig into until Clarke took my file on your sister yesterday.”

 “Okay,” he whispered.

“We’re going to call in some favors and make sure it gets buried,” Kane offered. Bellamy opened his mouth to ask for specifics before slamming it shut, remembering that the less he knew, the better.

“That doesn’t fix the larger problem of Octavia,” he muttered, hating himself for referring to his own sister as a problem, as a liability. But that’s what she was in this context. “This isn’t how she—”

He cut himself off when he realized he was about to say that she was going through a hard time after Lincoln died. Bellamy wasn’t going to fall back into the habit of making excuses for her. Not again. He did that enough after his mom died and Octavia lashed out at him. There wasn’t an excuse strong enough to justify her behavior, and he needed to remember that.

“She has court mandated anger management sessions now. Maybe it will help her,” Kane offered, trying to force a reassuring smile.

“Maybe,” Bellamy sighed.


	13. Broken Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there wasn't an update last week. It was Christmas Eve and I decided to take the week off. But I'm back! And here's a cute lil chap for ya! 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments on the last chapter. I haven't gotten to responding to them yet, but I will. Love y'all!

Town hall meetings were Bellamy’s favorite. He was out of Washington, just talking to people. That was what he was good at. Playing mind games and leveraging favors weren’t in his wheelhouse, but this right here was.

The only thing giving him a bit of pause were the local news cameras in the room. The local Tennessee media had never really cared to keep tabs on him before, certainly not when they thought he didn’t have a chance in hell of becoming a senator. But now he was someone they wanted to keep their eye on. Not to mention that they were probably more invested in catching a glimpse of Clarke since she came home with him this time.

Most of the questions were easy. Some people wanted to talk about immigration reform, which sparked more of a debate between constituents than with him. One particularly difficult older man wanted to rant about Bellamy’s stances on taxes, and Bellamy had to bite his tongue not to point out that the president that man voted for was why he was paying too much on taxes in the first place. But all in all, it was a simple enough town hall.

 Kane and Clarke were seated in the back. Kane looked bored for most of it, but Clarke always offered Bellamy a smile when he locked eyes with her. He knew tonight wasn’t particularly interesting. There were less than twenty people here, which was an outstanding turn out for such a rural town. Tomorrow night’s town hall would be much more intense, which was really what Kane came all this way for.

“Hello, my name is Tor Lemkin,” a man said as he stood up, and Bellamy felt a smile creep onto his lips. He recognized that name from all the letters and calls to his office. This man had an opinion on everything and never hesitated to tell Bellamy when he could be doing his job better. “I know you aren’t up for reelection this year, but a few of your fellow senators are. They have been promising that come next year, they’ll vote to repeal the Affordable Care Act. Where do you stand on that?”

“Mr. Lemkin, it’s nice to meet you face to face,” Bellamy said with a smile. “I am part of a bipartisan movement to protect the Affordable Care Act at all costs. It is one issue that I will never waver on. It needs to be protected so that all Americans have access to affordable coverage.”

“It just seems like you tend to work with Senator McCreary more than Senator Pike these days, so how do I know you won’t flip on this issue?” he snapped, and Kane’s head shot up in the back, shooting Bellamy a warning look. Bellamy knew he had to tread lightly here, to not say anything that could piss off the conservative base. But Lemkin’s question was fair. It was something that bothered Bellamy to no end. “My daughter has been sick for a while now, and luckily, it is all covered. But if your friends in the Senate take away the Affordable Care Act, I may not be able to afford her treatments.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m glad you’re getting the coverage you need,” Bellamy sighed. Kane’s eyes were still wide, panicked that Bellamy was going to put his foot in his mouth. Bellamy looked over at Clarke, who still had an encouraging smile on her lips as she nodded, and he let out a breath. “Growing up, my mom couldn’t afford health insurance. She worked two jobs, sometimes three, but the kind of plans our family needed were too expensive for a single mother of two kids. We got by… until she got sick.”

Bellamy’s eyes dropped down to his hands, feeling a familiar lurch in his stomach. He never really talked about this, not outside of his conversations with Octavia or Miller. There was no one around him these days who could really understand what it was like to watch his whole world fall apart just because they were broke. His fellow senators all grew up with silver spoons in their mouths, as did Clarke. The issue of healthcare wasn’t personal for any of them. But it was for Bellamy.

“The money I saved up for college went to cover her treatments. I took on more after school jobs than I could reasonably handle. And as soon as I was eighteen, I enlisted so that I could send the money home to take care of my mom and sister. That was why I wasn’t there when my mom died,” Bellamy said, voice breaking as he kept his eyes fixed on Tor Lemkin. He was someone Bellamy knew could understand the pressure of what happened all those years ago. Not even Octavia could understand the weight on Bellamy’s shoulders. But this man could. “I took on all the debt that accumulated from her medical bills. It took me more than a decade to get it all paid off, and had I not gotten lucky enough to have people around to help me, I’d still be paying it off. So let me tell you, I know how important the Affordable Care Act is. No one should have to go through what we went through. Trust me when I say that I will do whatever I have to in order to protect it. It is our duty to ensure a better future for the next generation, and this is one way of ensuring that.”

Bellamy expected Lemkin to look satisfied with that answer and for Clarke to nod at him. What he didn’t expect was the sound of someone clapping. No one ever clapped at these things, not when most of them were there to complain about what was happening in Washington. But someone in the back started clapping. Then, Lemkin started clapping. And before Bellamy could blink, he was actually hearing applause.

 

* * *

 

“I’d really like to go a whole day without seeing your face on my TV,” Miller huffed, and Clarke burst out giggling. She had a bit too much to drink, causing her to lean a bit more into Bellamy than usual… not that he minded. He was glad Miller made them all go out after his town hall. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this.

“But I have such a pretty face,” Bellamy deadpanned, and Jackson started nodding along, causing Miller to scrunch up his nose.

Bellamy had missed this… having two close friends who weren’t all up in his business about his work. It had only been two months since he saw Jackson and Miller last, but it felt like a lifetime after all the drama with Abby Griffin and wedding planning.

The waitress filled Clarke’s glass again, and Bellamy knew that after this drink, Clarke would be completely hammered. He nudged his glass of water toward her, letting out a sigh of relief when she took a sip.

“You just had to go be all smooth and passionate and shit in your town hall, huh? I went a whole day without seeing you on the news, and then at ten o’clock you took over my local news,” Miller said, wagging his finger at Bellamy.

“I’m sorry I’m so good at my job,” Bellamy chuckled.

“He’s just mad that it cut into the sports coverage,” Jackson explained.

“Aww, Bell. You’re the reason Miller didn’t get to hear just how badly his Predators lost?” Clarke teased, and Miller downed the rest of his drink. Bellamy buried his face into Clarke’s shoulder, laughing so hard that he started crying. Jackson repeatedly slapped his hand on the table, cackling as Miller grumbled about how the Preds are looking pretty good this year minus this one game.

“And to think I thought I liked you, Clarke,” Miller huffed.

“If I get you another beer, will you like me again?” she grinned, and Miller nodded with a smirk. Bellamy kept his hand on her back as she stood up, only letting go when he saw she wasn’t swaying. Jackson followed after her toward the bar.

“How are you two even more all over each other now than when I last saw you?” Miller snorted.

“Our connection is deeper now that we’ve found a common enemy: the seating chart for our wedding,” Bellamy joked. Though he was spending more time with Clarke than usual because of all the wedding planning. He worried that something would have changed between them after everything with the leak, but once it was all put to bed, they fell back in sync again. Now, the most tension put on their relationship was due to seating charts and that damn registry.

“Remind me to give her the ‘you better not break my best friend’s heart’ talk. I owe it to you after you interrogated Jackson.”

“I did not interrogate him. I just had a few questions,” Bellamy huffed. “And you’re not having any one on one talks with her. I don’t know what you said to her last time, but when she was done with your dance, she acted really weird.”

“We talked about how much we hate it when restaurants botch medium rare and why the Memphis mayor doesn’t know to keep the bottom button of his suit jacket undone. And then I said I was happy for you two and that I’d never seen you so in love. If she acted weird, it must have been something you did.”

“Huh. Well, you know that it was actually King Edward VII who started the whole leaving the bottom button undone. I think it was—”

“No, nope. Stop. No history lessons,” Miller groaned right as Jackson and Clarke came back. “Clarke, get your man to stop trying to teach me history.”

“Aww, I think it’s cute when he goes on his tangents,” Clarke teased, sliding the beer over to Miller. She curled up into Bellamy’s side again, grinning up at him. Her cheeks were bright pink from drinking, and her smile was a bit bigger than it would be sober. “Come on. Tell me about the Great Schism again.”

He chuckled as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “God, just get married already,” Miller muttered.

 

* * *

 

Clarke laid her head in Bellamy’s lap the whole drive back to his house, fading in and out of sleep. She probably shouldn’t have come back to Tennessee with him on this trip given how insane things had been at her firm this week. She was exhausted already, and he couldn’t imagine that going out with Bellamy’s friends and hanging out at town halls was helping.

Occasionally, she’d say something snarky to Miller or hum when Bellamy asked her if she was okay, but other than that, she was pretty out of it. Bellamy could feel his own exhaustion start to set in, and he didn’t really contribute to Jackson and Miller’s conversation up in the front seat. His mind was drifting to the list of things he had to get done for the wedding and worrying that he wouldn’t have as good of a town hall tomorrow night.

Clarke perked back up when they got to his house, though she had to lean into Bellamy’s side as they made their way to the front door.

They went straight to their room once he locked the door, though they both tripped over themselves on the way. He loved that he thought of his old room as _their_ room now. He loved that on this trip here, Clarke didn’t even pretend to use the guest room. She made herself right at home in Bellamy’s room, like she had always belonged here. She had her own side of the bed, she wore his shirts to sleep, she stole the blanket if he wasn’t careful… and he loved it all.

When he finished brushing his teeth, Clarke was already in their bed, lying closer to the center than usual. “You’re taking forever,” she slurred, and a smile crept to his lips. She was waiting for him.

He chuckled as he crawled in bed beside her, his heart warming as she buried her face into his chest. “You did so good today,” she whispered.

“Let’s hope I do as good tomorrow,” he sighed.

“You will. You made that entire room fall in love with you tonight. You can do it again,” she murmured, and he grinned as he rested his head on top of hers. Clarke was always throwing praise at him, as if trying to make up for how little he got from everyone else, and it increased when she was drunk. “Everybody is going to love you. It’s inevitable.”

“Okay,” he chuckled.

“You’re just so warm and kind. And smart. So fucking smart,” she mumbled, and he could feel his grin turn goofy. “And you connect with people, especially tonight.”

“Well, I told them the truth, and sadly, my story is all too common.” He waited in silence for her reply, but she didn’t say a word. He tilted his head up to see if she had already fallen asleep, but her sleepy eyes were staring up at him. “Clarke?”

“I’ve never heard you talk about it before. Or not that much of it,” she whispered before burying her face back into his shirt.

“It hadn’t come up,” he sighed. Though he knew what she was getting at. He didn’t talk about his mom’s death to anyone. It was this weight bearing down on his shoulders, and acknowledging it just made it worse. It reminded him of a life that hurt to think about. It took him back to taking care of Octavia, to the days where all they had was each other, to how certain he was that even if the whole world went to hell, he would still have her. And then, he’d have to remember just how wrong he was.

“Oh.”

“Does it bother you that I don’t talk about it?”

“A little,” Clarke whispered. “But I guess there’s plenty I don’t talk about either.”

He bit down on his lip, realizing how true that was. Clarke never spoke about Wells or Jake’s deaths, only of the pleasant times before their hearts stopped beating. He always wanted to know more, since Murphy wouldn’t shut up about how weird Wells’ death was and Kane yelled at Clarke’s grandfather when he made a snide remark about Jake. “Just assumed you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s not so much that I don’t want to as much as my family just doesn’t talk about it,” she sighed.

“Yeah, I get that. I think I learned not to talk about my mom because it would always result in Octavia getting angry that I wasn’t there.”

Clarke’s head popped up, her eyes wide as she peered up at him. “It wasn’t your fault that you weren’t there,” she told him, and he knew that, deep down. “You were just doing what you had to.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” he admitted. Bellamy turned onto his side so that he could be at eye level with Clarke. Her hand rested on his collarbone, stroking mindless little circles with her thumb. He pulled her a bit closer by her waist before resting his forehead onto hers. “I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for not being there.”

“I wish you would. I wish you could see just how incredible of a person you are,” she told him, and he couldn’t help but kiss her for that. It wasn’t fair how just a few words from her could force a smile onto his lips and cause something in his chest to flutter.

He let his fingers comb through her hair, his eyes not leaving hers as they laid there. He fought to keep his eyes open, wanting to enjoy this moment with her a bit longer. “You know that you can talk to me about what happened too, right?” he asked her.

“There’s not much to tell that you don’t already know,” she whispered. Right, her tragedies were televised for the whole world to see. “My mom and dad fought the whole week before. My dad was fighting with Marcus and Thelonious too. It was an ugly week, and everyone’s last words to him were awful. My mom wouldn’t even let him kiss her cheek before he got up to the podium. And right when he got up to speak, he was shot.”

His fingers trailed down to her cheek, holding her face as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We never got closure. The shooter killed himself and left no trace of who hired him. So, it just sits there and haunts us all.”

“Clarke, I’m so sorry,” he murmured. He remembered the footage all too vividly. He, just like every other American, watched the news for weeks, waiting for an answer as to why this happened… but there was none. Jake Griffin, the beloved governor and presidential nominee, was just gone.

“And Wells… he was the kindest person I had ever known. He genuinely wanted to make the world a better place. The only person he didn’t get along with was his dad, especially not at the end,” she continued, her eyes closing as she spoke. “He said he needed to talk to me about something important. I still don’t know what that was since I had to blow him off to deal with my mom. And next thing I know, Marcus Kane is telling me that my best friend died in some car accident.”

He told her again how sorry he was, but she just buried her face into his shirt and hummed when he wrapped his arms around her. He hated that she was so haunted by loss, but it made him feel less alone in his own loss. They could both be a little bit broken together.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Bellamy felt the next morning was Clarke’s hand sliding across his stomach. “Baby,” he whispered, not even opening his eyes.

Clarke hummed as she pressed a chaste kiss to his neck… followed by a much less chaste one. Her tongued traced a small circle below his jaw, her breath hot on his skin.

They didn’t wake up together all that often these days, but when they did, it was just like this… warm and lazy.

He turned onto his back and tilted his head up to expose more of his neck to her. She was painfully slow as she kissed his bare skin, as if she were slowly waking him up. Her hand explored the other side of his neck, softly mapping out the skin beneath her gentle fingers.

“Do I get a kiss?” Bellamy whispered, and he could feel Clarke smile against his skin.

His room was still dark since it was a gloomy day outside, meaning he could barely make out her features when her head popped up to look at him. Her hair was a bit tangled from sleep, her lips dark from kissing his skin. God, she was beautiful.

Her lips grazed his finally, and he found himself pulling her back for more. She giggled against his lips as he kissed her again, that happy giggle that he was so damn in love with. After a few messy kisses, she tucked her head back into his neck, resuming her slow assault on his throat. He let his eyes fall shut again, focusing only on the feeling of her soft lips exploring his skin. He loved the way her lips would drag or how warm her breath felt on him.

He felt himself start to doze off again until Clarke’s thigh brushed against his cock, which was already half hard. His breath went shaky, and Clarke stopped kissing his neck for a moment. She brushed against him again, and he could feel her smirk into his neck when he let out a tiny gasp. “Sweetheart,” he warned, but Clarke’s hand was already sliding down his shirt toward his boxers.

“Shh,” she murmured, gripping his cock through his boxers. He involuntarily jerked into her hand, cursing under his breath. He kept his face buried into her shoulder, but the soft smell of Clarke’s shampoo and detergent couldn’t do anything to calm down his arousal while Clarke was slipping her warm hand into his boxers. “Oh, Bellamy,” she cooed as her fingers wrapped around his length. Her thumb traced a circle around the head before smearing the precum down his shaft. “I can barely fit my hand around you.”

When he pulled his head away so he could see, the sight of her pale hand on his cock too tempting not to look at, Clarke used her other hand to turn his head toward her face. “Look at me, Bell,” she said, and his eyes locked with hers. Her hand tightened around him as she stroked up toward the head. When his lips parted in a low groan, she seized his lips, humming happily into his mouth.

“I love touching you,” Clarke said, her voice breathy as she pulled back from their kiss. “And I love how you look at me when I’m touching you,” she smirked.

“How do I look at you?” he chuckled. The grin on his face dropped as she traced her thumb around the head again, and he let out an involuntary growl.

“Like you’re two seconds away from ripping off my clothes and burying that gorgeous cock inside me,” she whispered, her voice warm and sweet. He jerked into her hand at those words because it was exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to touch her too, to make her whimper and moan for him.

“You make me like this, baby,” he whispered, letting his voice drop real low as he called her _baby_. The dark, almost feral look in her eyes confirmed what he had known for a while: that nickname filled her with pure, unadulterated want.

Her hand abandoned his cock, and he whimpered in protest. But he kept his eyes glued to her as that same hand slipped into her panties. “You wanna see how you make me?” she asked, and he found himself nodding frantically.

When she pulled her hand out, her fingers were glistening. He tugged her hand toward his mouth, letting his tongue lick off the sweet arousal from her fingers. “See what you do to me,” she said as he moaned at her taste. “Make me want you so bad.”

Clarke pushed him all the way onto his back before crashing her lips into his. Gone was their lazy morning, not that he could care given how gorgeous she looked as she straddled him and grinded against his achingly hard cock. He fisted her hair, keeping her as close to him as possible as his tongue dove into her mouth. He only let her pull away when she went to tug off her panties.

“Baby, please,” he pleaded. She pushed his boxers down to his thighs, too impatient to get them off, before climbing back over him. She kept a hand on his chest to keep her balance as she slowly angled his cock into her tight cunt.

He dug his fingers into her soft thighs as she slowly sunk down on his cock. He could see her hardened nipples through his shirt that she stole last night and couldn’t help slipping a hand up the shirt to cup her heavy breast.

His eyes fell shut as her hot, velvety cunt squeezed his cock. “So perfect, fuck,” he stuttered out. She was torturous in her slow pace, and he found himself gripping her ass to try and make her speed up.

Her eyes would fall shut when he was fully seated inside her, as if she were savoring how full she felt. “God, you’re so beautiful, Clarke,” he told her, loving the soft, almost shy smile that took over her features. “Can’t help but stare at you all the time. I always wanna look at my gorgeous girl.”

Her cheeks were bright red as she leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “ _Your_ gorgeous girl?” she teased between kisses.

He gave her ass a quick squeeze before saying, “Yeah, mine.” She giggled happily into his mouth, her hands resting on either side of his face. He thrust up into her, keeping the pace slow as they kissed.

But the slow pace didn’t last long. Her kisses grew hungrier, and his thrusts matched that urgent pace. It wasn’t long until he was pounding into her and she was gripping onto his hair as he swallowed her screams.

She clenched around his cock as she murmured nonsense into his ear. He could barely make out what she was saying other than when she cried out his name. But he wasn’t much better. He wasn’t even sure if he was saying real words as he fell apart. The only thing he was sure of was the last thing that fell off his lips.

“God, I love you,” he panted into her neck.

It wasn’t until they were both lying back in bed and catching their breath that he realized what he said. Even though he meant it more than anything, he could count on one hand the number of times he has said it out loud. He said it to Jaha. He said it twice to reporters. He said it once to Clarke, the night he proposed, and she didn’t notice that it was real.

He jerked his head over to look at her, panicked about how she would react. Clarke had never said it to Bellamy, though she expressed the sentiment in public all the time. It was just part of the story they were selling to the American people. And while Bellamy was fairly certain after the Diyoza incident that Clarke did love him, he was also aware that Clarke had to be purposeful in not saying it.

“Shower?” she asked him, and he couldn’t bring himself to say a word, so he just nodded.

Those three words echoed in his head over and over as he followed her into the bathroom, and he found himself searching her eyes for any sign that she wasn’t comfortable with what he just told her in bed. But there was nothing different about Clarke. She pressed small kisses to his back as she wrapped her arms around his waist in the shower. She smiled at him whenever he kissed her cheek. Everything felt normal.

Maybe she didn’t hear him. He certainly couldn’t make out everything she said while coming, so it’s possible she didn’t.

But that possibility didn’t put him at ease. It wasn’t until he was halfway through making breakfast that he realized why.

He wanted her to hear him say those words. He wanted her to know that he loved her. And he wanted to hear if she loved him too.

“You okay?” she asked as he plopped down next to her at the table. She reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers with his.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling the hand up to his lips. He loved the way she ducked his head whenever he kissed her hand… the sweet, shy smile that showed up when his lips glided against her skin.

“So, I was thinking,” she said, picking up her fork to tackle the scrambled eggs. “Our wedding is only a few months away.”

“And we still haven’t finished that damn registry,” he grumbled.

“Fuck,” she huffed, her head dropping for a moment. “Okay, anyway, I think we should move in together.”

Bellamy choked on his coffee. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It’s that he didn’t expect Clarke to want to just yet. “You serious?” he asked.

“Well, yeah,” she said, though he could hear her voice start to waver. Fuck, she thought he didn’t want to based on his reaction. “I mean, we’re going to live together after we get married. And we’d see each other more this way, which will make wedding planning go a lot easier. Plus, you know, every morning could be like this morning.”

He pulled her hand up to his lips again, this time kissing her wrist. “Okay, let’s do it,” he told her, loving the way her eyes lit up. “I sleep better with you anyway.” And he didn’t miss the little blush on her cheeks.

They talked about the logistics of moving in together as they finished breakfast, deciding that Clarke’s apartment is far nicer but Bellamy’s TV is superior. And the longer they spoke, the more relieved Bellamy felt about the whole thing. He hadn’t realized how much he had been dreading going back to DC and not waking up with Clarke in his bed until this conversation. And now, he didn’t have to.

He could just see their life together in that apartment, and eventually, a house. He’d wake up with Clarke in the morning. They’d kiss each other goodbye before heading off to work. They’d have dinner together every night. He’d get to hold her close as they drifted off to sleep. Bellamy wasn’t sure how he got so lucky to have a girl he loved this much.

Those three words were on the tip of Bellamy’s tongue. He wanted to try to say them again, and this time, pay attention to how Clarke reacted. He was going to say them, he decided. He had to.

“Clarke,” he said, but her eyes were now on her phone. Her brows were furrowed, but her lips formed a little smile. “What’s going on?”

“Your speech last night went viral,” she said before handing him his phone. And there Bellamy was at a tiny town hall in the middle of nowhere. When he scrolled down, he saw why Clarke got excited.

“Three million views?” he stuttered out.

“Yeah, Marcus just texted to say that it’s on all the morning news,” she grinned, resting her head in her hands. “It’s like I always tell you. You inspire people.”

He found himself running into the living room to turn on the television, and there Bellamy was again, this time on CNN. He was vaguely aware of Clarke following after him, but he couldn’t stop gaping at the national attention and praise he was getting.


	14. The Favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a time jump here. The least realistic thing about this fic is how quickly they get their wedding planned, but we'll just attribute that to Clarke having lots of money to make that happen. Okay? Okay.

Bellamy’s ratings were higher than ever. His highly publicized wedding to Clarke Griffin, who was essentially American royalty, was in a week. His story about his mother and his stance on healthcare had been on every news outlet, putting him in high demand for high profile interviews. And between that and showing up with Clarke to Jaha’s reelection campaign events, he was becoming one of the most popular moderates among voters.

In general, Bellamy was happy. Moving in with Clarke had been easy enough, and he found that he was in an infinitely better mood now that he was waking up with her every morning. The only thing that ate at him was that he still hadn’t told her that he loved her. It wasn’t for a lack of trying. But things kept coming up for their wedding or Clarke had a rough day at the firm or Bellamy was preoccupied with busywork that Pike had thrown at him. Despite spending so much time together, there really hadn’t been much time to truly talk. And those opportunities were fewer and far between now that her mother and grandfather kept stopping by unannounced to talk about the wedding.

The only other thing that weighed on him was Octavia. Ever since he got back from Tennessee, she had started calling him. He knew what it was about. She was furious that he was airing their dirty laundry on national television, “spinning” it to make him look sympathetic when he had “abandoned” her. He didn’t need to hear her say it to know that’s what she’d hiss at him… after all, it’s the same speech he had gotten for years, often accompanied with a slap across his face or sometimes worse. So, he didn’t answer. He hadn’t answered one of her seventeen phone calls. Never in Bellamy’s life had he ignored a call from his little sister. His guilt wouldn’t let him before. But now… Bellamy was happy and wasn’t about to invite the agony she threw at him back into his life.

He stared down at his phone, seeing Octavia’s name light up on the screen. “Bell, I think the light purple tie would—”

Bellamy jerked his head up to see Clarke standing by the bed staring at him with sad eyes, holding two ties in her hands. “It’s just O,” he murmured, silencing his phone before throwing it onto the bed. “So, purple?”

“Would you feel better if I answered it?” She had abandoned the ties on the bed, now stepping toward him with concerned eyes. He shook his head. Clarke studied him for a moment before setting her palms on his chest.

“I just… I’m really happy right now, and that goes away the second I talk to her.” He felt horrible saying it out loud, but a weight lifted off his shoulders at this confession.

“You’re happy?” Clarke whispered, a smile tugging at her lips.

He rested his hand over hers, letting his thumb trail over the engagement ring before bringing her hand up to his lips. “You know I am.”

Clarke ducked her head as a blush crept onto her cheeks. He loved it when she did that. It was so unlike the confident woman who she became out in public. It was the Clarke only he got to have. The one he loved. “Okay. We can cross this bridge later.”

“Yeah, after our wedding.” Or during, if Octavia actually shows up. A selfish part of him hoped she didn’t.

He watched Clarke pick up the ties again, holding them both on either side of his head as she weighed the options. “Definitely purple,” she decided, and he snatched it from her hand.

“You didn’t want to try and have us match?” he teased. Bellamy was a little nervous about going to the White House for Easter, though it would easily be his least terrifying trip to the White House. He just wasn’t used to being in this inner circle. Jaha was kind enough to him, though Wallace scared the shit out of him. Indra, the Speaker of the House, would be there with her daughter, so at least Bellamy would have one Democrat ally. Though he wasn’t sure she liked him much.

Clarke was sporting a pastel green dress with a high neckline and three-quarter inch sleeves. Her hair was down today, her curls more relaxed than usual. For her, this was just another Easter at the White House. “We don’t want to be that couple, do we?” she snorted as he began tying his tie.

She started pacing a bit in front of their bed, a little more nervous than he would expect. “What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Normally, she’d be talking his ear off, reminding him of exactly how the day would go to reassure him. But she was quiet, her hands fidgeting as she paced.

“I need to tell you something that you might not like,” she sighed, throwing herself back onto the bed.

“Can it wait until after? I’m anxious enough as it is.”

“No, because my grandfather will be there and might bring it up.” Bellamy crossed over to her and rested against the dress, crossing his arms. “So, his accounts have been frozen.”

“What? Is he under investigation or something?” he chuckled. But when Clarke’s head popped up and her lips were pressed into a thin line, he realized that Richard Walters was indeed under investigation.

“It’s not anything serious. It’ll blow over in a few months like always.” _Like always_. He hated how routine this was to them. Bellamy had done enough reading into the Walters family to know that these kinds of investigations happened every couple years or so. Clarke had yet to be under scrutiny and likely never would be since she kept her money separate and didn’t have the same business practices as her grandfather. But still. He hated how close he was to these dirty practices now.

“Okay. Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because he asked me to transfer some money into his offshore account… and I did.”

 Bellamy gripped the side of the dresser, grinding his teeth together. “You did what?” he snapped. This was a conversation they should have had before she did anything, not after.

“I didn’t do anything illegal,” she defended.

“That’s not why I’m upset. You should have talked to me.”

“I am talking to you!”

“Before! You should have talked to me before.” He threw his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. Clarke knew how much he hated being kept in the dark. And as a Democrat, he was in a precarious enough position with his odd relationship with Richard Walters. If Walters did anything with Clarke’s money that could get Bellamy into trouble…

“Well, you’ve been busy,” she muttered. And she wasn’t wrong. He was doing interviews every night, getting to his office earlier each morning to work with Kane, and coming home with barely enough energy to undress and fall into bed. “And I didn’t have much time to make a decision.”

“Do you even know what he’s going to use that money for?”

“No,” she whispered, and he swore under his breath. Clarke was usually so smart and calculating, so he couldn’t fathom why she’d agree to something so stupid. If her grandfather was in trouble, that was on him. She had no obligation to help him, especially not after all the horrible things he had done and said to her in her life. Not to mention that there was no telling what Walters would do with that money, especially during election season.

Clarke grabbed his suit jacket off the bed and hurled it at him. “We’re running late,” she huffed, her heels clacking against the hard wood as she darted out of the room.

“We haven’t even talked about this, Clarke.”

“Don’t know what’s left to talk about. I told you what I did, you’re pissed at me, end of story.”

He slammed his mouth shut before he put his foot in his mouth and followed after her. They didn’t say a word as they got into his car. Clarke wouldn’t even look at him.

He fumed in silence as he drove, all the possibilities for what Walters could want to do with that money swirling around in Bellamy’s head. He didn’t care that Walters was about to be family. Bellamy didn’t trust that man. And neither did Clarke… which is why he couldn’t understand why she did this.

But it wasn’t like he asked why. Of course, he didn’t. He let his temper take over and forgot to just ask her why.

When he realized this, Bellamy pulled off the interstate one exit early and pulled them into a gas station parking lot. “You have half a tank left,” Clarke pointed out. She still wasn’t looking at him. She diverted her eyes toward the window when Bellamy glanced over at her.

“Tell me why.”

“Why what?”

“You know what, Clarke,” he snapped, and her jaw clenched.

“Does it matter why? You’re still mad at me for not talking to you about how I manage my money.”

“I’m mad at you for making a big decision without me. We don’t do that anymore.” Not since Clarke ambushed Diyoza in his office months ago. Bellamy hadn’t made a single major decision without consulting Clarke, his partner… his soon to be wife. And as far as he knew, she hadn’t either.

“I didn’t have time to consult you. He needed it that day. You were doing a CNN interview and then there was an emergency vote and you still couldn’t leave the office after because McCreary waited until the last second to get some FBI report to the Dems.” Clarke undid her seatbelt, letting it fall back with a loud clink as she turned toward him. “Don’t you think I waited as long as I could to talk to you before I did it?”

Bellamy let out a breath and shut his eyes. There was some part of him that still thought all of this was too good to be true, that he had to stay vigilant for Clarke or Kane screwing him over. And he knew they wouldn’t. Kane was too loyal, and Clarke… despite the words left unspoken, she loved him. He loved her. And what they had wasn’t too good to be true. It was real and pure, something Bellamy had never imagined he could have.

“Okay,” he murmured, and her eyes relaxed at his softer tone. “Can you just explain why you decided to help him out?”

“He, uh…” He flickered his eyes over to hers, not liking the hesitation in her voice. “He offered me something.”

“He offered you something?” he repeated back. Clarke’s eyes widened for a moment before she started shaking her head.

“Nothing like that,” she reassured. “He said if I helped him out now, he wouldn’t sell off our old house. And now, the deed is in my name. Plus, he will pay me back with interest, so—”

“Your old house?”

She glanced down at her hands, shutting her eyes. “The one we lived in before my dad moved us into the Governor’s Mansion and everything got so… it’s the house I grew up in.” His chest panged when her voice started to break and all he wanted to do was pull her close to him. Bellamy reached across the console to take her hand in his. His thumb traced a small circle into the back of her hand as he waited for her to continue. “I just… I’ve been trying to get him to give it to me for years. I always thought one day I’d move back to it, or maybe just take our kids there for a visit every now and then. Or live there after you retire. I don’t know.”

“Hey,” he whispered, reaching his other hand up to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. That house isn’t worth anything to him. He only held onto it so he could get a favor out of me one day. Because God forbid someone in my family does anything without expecting something in return.” The tiny sniffles turned into full on sobs, and Bellamy found himself tearing through his car to find a tissue or napkin. “And now you’re mad at me because I didn’t talk to you, and my grandfather is going to use my money to prop up a bunch of bigots this election cycle just because I can’t let go of the last place my family was happy in.”

“I’m not mad at you.” Bellamy took her face between his hands, his chest aching at the sight of her tears. “I didn’t understand before. Now I do. And it’s okay.” When he pressed his lips to hers, he could taste the salt of her tears mixed in with her lipstick. Her lips were shakier than usual, her breathing too staggered. “I’ve got you,” he whispered against her lips. “And I’m glad you have the house now. I want to see it one day soon, okay?”

She buried her face into his shoulder, nodding her head slowly.

 

* * *

 

They were late. They had to stop and get stain remover wipes so no photos had evidence of Clarke’s makeup running as she sobbed into his jacket. Clarke had to touch up said makeup. But he felt a bit lighter once they stepped onto the White House lawn. Clarke leaned into him more, and he let himself be more affectionate than he’d usually be in public. He was sure there would be more tears tonight, but the worst of it was over.

“It’s probably been rough on her with the wedding coming up too,” Monty offered when the two of them were alone. Clarke was across the lawn with Harper, Monty’s wife, and their son Jordan. Clarke seemed enamored with their kid, her eyes lighting up when he jumped up into her lap. “Her dad isn’t there to walk her down the aisle.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Bellamy sighed. Up until today, he had seen no evidence of Clarke struggling. But that was pretty normal. Clarke was a master of pretending she was fine up until the point where she couldn’t pretend anymore. Bellamy figured today was the breaking point. Clarke could handle just about anything, but not Bellamy getting angry with her.

“And it must be rough on you too.” Bellamy’s jaw clenched at the reminder that he likely didn’t have any family coming to his wedding… unless his sister surprised him.

Life hadn’t slowed down enough for Bellamy to realize how empty his wedding might feel. He hadn’t thought he’d ever get married, so the idea that his mom didn’t live to see him married and happy was only now crashing onto him. She’d never meet Clarke or their kids. She’d have loved them though. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind about that.

Octavia was a different story. She still could be a part of Bellamy’s life, but that decision was entirely up to her. And he wasn’t sure she’d choose to be his family, not when she convinced herself that he had abandoned her.

“I’m holding up just fine. I’m more worried about Clarke.” Looking at her now, no one would ever guess that just an hour ago she was sobbing in his car. She was bouncing Jordan in her lap, a giddy smile on her face as she played with him.

“She’s been through worse. And at least she has you and her mom and Jaha to help her through it,” Monty reassured.

Bellamy’s eyes flickered over to President Jaha, who was taking pictures with some of the kids. It was a more relaxed side of him that he hadn’t seen much lately. That man was on a mission to get reelected, meaning he never let his guard down.

Vice President Wallace wasn’t by his side, which struck Bellamy as odd. He furrowed his eyebrows as he scanned the lawn for any sight of him. “Have you seen the VP?”

“Yeah. He went inside a few minutes ago with Walters.”

“Senator Blake!” Bellamy’s head jerked to see Diyoza striding up to him. “Happy Easter,” she grinned before looking at Monty. “Mr. Green, could you give us a moment?”

Monty and Bellamy exchanged a look before Bellamy waved him off. Diyoza took Monty’s spot beside him, her eyes looking out onto the lawn at the children looking for Easter Eggs. “Is your daughter enjoying herself?”

“Yes,” she replied through gritted teeth. “Hope’s the one with the yellow bow in her hair.” She pointed out into the grass, and Bellamy spotted the small girl with an overflowing basket and yellow polka dots on her dress to match the bow.

“She’s adorable. What do you want?” Bellamy’s eyes flickered over to Clarke, who was too engrossed in her conversation with Harper and Monty to notice Diyoza at Bellamy’s side. If she had, Clarke would have darted across the lawn to be at his side.

“If you recall, I once offered you a favor.”

“Pretty sure that was just a ruse to bug my office,” he snapped. He didn’t care that Diyoza had a lot to lose if she ever crossed Bellamy. He still couldn’t trust her. Not after what she did to Clarke.

“I’m a woman of my word, Blake. But I also don’t want to wait long on repaying the favor. I have an election to worry about, unlike you.”

“I don’t want your favor,” he hissed. “And if you didn’t notice, I don’t need it.” Bellamy was on track to get reelected. His home state loved him, and that support was growing every day. There was nothing Diyoza could offer that would be worth it.

“No, you don’t. But Lady Macbeth over there might.” She nodded toward where Clarke was sitting.

“Don’t call her that.”

“After the way she came after me, I’d say the name suited her.” He opened his mouth to snap back at her before remember just how many cameras were on them at the moment. He tucked his hands into his pockets, forcing his face back into a semi-pleasant expression. “I know something that she’ll want to know, and then we’ll call ourselves even.”

“We’re not interested.”

Diyoza stepped in front of him now, her eyes sizing him up. “So, you don’t want the name of the man who killed Wells Jaha?” She started to move away, and Bellamy gripped her wrist.

“Talk,” he growled.

“I don’t have a lot of details. That police report is under seal, after all,” she whispered, taking a subtle step towards him. “But tell your bride-to-be that she’s looking for Carl Emerson.”

He jerked her back towards him when she tried to walk away. “We’re gonna need more than that.”

“You just used up your favor. We’ll talk again when you have something I want,” she smirked.

He blinked rapidly as she walked off to find her husband.

She could be lying. After all, it was an accident. Clarke said so herself. What happened to Wells Jaha was a random, horrible accident.

He tried to shake it off as he walked over to join the Green’s and Clarke. She was all smiles as he sat down beside her, smacking a kiss to his cheek before leaning into his side. He didn’t add much to the conversation. No, he was too busy trying to figure out how to tell her that Wells Jaha, the man she was supposed to marry and her best friend, might have been murdered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, my friends. Figured I should start it out with a bang.


	15. Eerily Familiar Spiderweb

“Carl who?” Raven huffed. Bellamy could hear Clarke’s footsteps going back into the kitchen, but he kept the water running just in case.

“Carl Emerson,” he repeated into the phone.

“Want to tell me why you’re bothering me on my day off to look up this guy?”

“Just trust me, it’s important.” There was still a chance that Diyoza was lying or misleading him. And he couldn’t tell Clarke unless he had reason to believe Diyoza.

“I’m gonna need more information. There are a few Carl Emerson’s out there.”

“All I have is his name,” Bellamy snapped.

“That’s not enough to tell you anything.”

“Uh, I know he was in the area during Jaha’s campaign.”

“Fine. I’ll call you back if I get something.” He turned the water off as soon as Raven ended the call. Bellamy stared at himself in the mirror, bracing his hands on either side of the sink. Just hours ago, his biggest concern was that Clarke loaned her grandfather money… which was such a stupid thing to fight over in the grand scheme of things. Now, he was just praying that Diyoza was screwing with him. Otherwise, Bellamy had to tell Clarke that Wells had been murdered.

“Bell?” Clarke called out, knocking lightly on the door. She pushed it open, and he turned when he heard her bare feet padding toward him. “You’re still upset, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not,” he murmured, pulling her into him. “I get why you did it, and it was ridiculous for me to get mad anyway.”

“It wasn’t. And I should have—”

“Clarke,” he snapped and hated himself for that tone as soon as he saw Clarke’s eyes widen. Of course, she assumed this was about their fight this morning. Not that Bellamy was holding in a secret that would devastate her if it were true. “Clarke,” he repeated, softer this time. “I think I was just picking a fight. I’ve been stressed, I’m anxious about our wedding… and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Her hands slid up his chest, resting right by the collar of his shirt. “Okay,” she whispered, though there was still doubt in her eyes. He put a bit of pressure on her lower back, nudging her toward him. After a moment, she rested her head on his chest as he rested his on top of her hair.

He held her there for a moment, and his mind wandered back to what Clarke might do when he told her about Wells. Would he be holding her like this as she sobbed? Would she get angry? Would she be able to get out of bed? If Bellamy had thought she had snapped today, then he was terrified to see how she would break when she found out that yet another person she loved was murdered.

“We need to deal with the last-minute RSVP’s,” she mumbled into his shirt. He sighed as she pulled him by the hand toward their kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Raven called at two in the morning, not that it woke Bellamy up. He was still wide awake. “Tell me,” he whispered, careful not to move so much that he woke up Clarke, who was currently snoring softly into his neck with a leg tucked between his.

“There was a Carl Emerson in the area that year, but only for a few days.”

“Which days?”

“August 30th though September 2nd.” Bellamy slammed his eyes shut. Wells Jaha’s wreck was on the 1st. “He’s a relatively wealthy guy. In the automotive industry, actually. Well, he was until he retired from Tesla a few years ago. But anyway, he’s got a wife and a kid, relatively normal life, and—”

“Did you say Tesla?” His jaw was tense, and he could feel Clarke start to stir beside him.

“Since when do you care about cars?”

_Since the man Diyoza accused of killing Wells might just be an expert on the very car Wells was driving that night_. “That’s all I needed to know. Thank you, Raven.” He hung up before she could ask any more questions. Reyes would have a mountain of them tomorrow, but that was tomorrow’s problem. And tomorrow’s problem couldn’t hold a candle to today’s.

Clarke shifted against him, her nose bumping against his skin. He held his breath as she got comfortable again, only exhaling when he was certain she was asleep.

Bellamy would have to wait until tomorrow to tell her. Tomorrow evening since he wasn’t about to spring that on her before ducking out for work. She’d probably be angry that he waited a whole day to tell her, and he couldn’t blame her. But it was the best way to do this… well, if there were a best way to tell her that someone she loved was murdered.

 

* * *

 

His day went by in a blur. He hadn’t slept that night. He couldn’t. Not when his mind was working through all the ways Clarke would react to the news.

He barely paid attention in session and dozed off during Murphy’s briefing. Everyone asked what was wrong with him, but he couldn’t say a damn thing to anyone before he spoke to Clarke, so he just muttered about his wedding and they left him alone.

The panic didn’t fully seize him until he was outside their apartment door, his hand hovering over the door knob. As soon as this door was opened, he would have to tell her. And she would be devastated. Bellamy hated that he was about to do this to her.

He swung the door open, and there was Clarke, fiddling with the seating chart again. “Hey,” she grinned, her smile brighter than ever. He dropped his things off onto the couch before crossing over to her. Clarke tilted her head, angling her cheek up for a kiss as he stepped behind her.

“Hi,” he whispered against her skin before giving her a second peck. “Got it figured out yet?”

“The cousin that always makes snide remarks about my weight just sent in a late RSVP.”

“Can we seat her as far away from us as possible?” he snorted.

“Putting her right next to Cage Wallace. Best case scenario, he bores her to death. Worst case, they kill each other.”

“So, a win-win all around.” Clarke elbowed him in the side, but he could see the smile betraying its way onto her lips. “We need to talk about something.”

“Oh, I do not like the sound of that,” she whined as he tugged her by the hand into the living room. “If this is about McCreary’s invite again, there is nothing we can do now. He’s coming. We just have to get over it.”

“No, not that.” Clarke seated herself onto the couch, kicking her bare feet up onto the ottoman. She wasn’t exactly relaxed, but this was as close to it she could get considering how close they were to their wedding. “I had a talk with Senator Diyoza yesterday.”

“God, what did she do now?” Clarke growled, now sitting upright.

“She didn’t do anything.” Though that felt like a lie. She dropped a huge bomb on Bellamy with very little explanation. Bellamy sat down on the ottoman, pulling Clarke’s feet into his lap. “Remember how I said Diyoza would owe me a favor in exchange for my vote during the Sydney hearings?” Clarke nodded as she relaxed back into the couch. “Well, she decided she wanted to pay it up.”

“You don’t need anything. You are so golden right now,” Clarke snorted.

“Yeah, which is why she offered up information for you.” Her eyes widened curiously as her lips parted. “Does the name Carl Emerson mean anything to you?”

Clarke blinked a few times while her eyes drifted to the corner of the room. “He sounds familiar,” she admitted, and his stomach clenched. “Might be one of my grandfather’s friends. Or one of Thelonious’. Why? Who is he?”

Bellamy set her feet to the side as he slid to the edge of the ottoman. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” he sighed, reaching to grab her hands. He jerked his gaze away from her panicked eyes, not sure he could handle how she would look when he told her. “Diyoza told me that Carl Emerson killed Wells.”

Clarke jerked her hands out of his grasp, and his eyes shot up to hers. “No,” was all she said, her eyes firm as she stared at Bellamy.

“Clarke—”

“It was an accident.”

“I’m not saying I believe her, but I had Raven look into him and he basically—”

“Why would someone kill Wells?” Clarke snapped as she pushed herself up from the couch. “What could someone gain from that? His dad was losing his election and Wells hadn’t even started running yet. And besides, the police ruled it an accident!” She was pacing now, her brows furrowed as she walked back and forth in a perfectly straight line.

“Is that what it said on the police report?”

Clarke’s head snapped up at the question. A brief glimmer of panic washed over her face before she ran to grab her phone.

“Clarke—” She held her hand up to shush him as she pulled the phone up to her ear.

“Hey, I know I threw a lot of work onto you tonight, but I need you to find something else for me first,” she explained, likely to Zeke. “The report from Wells’ accident.” She tapped her finger on the glass of the dining room table as she listened to him. “I can’t. It’s sealed.” While Zeke spoke again, Clarke started digging through a binder, the one that had all the seating charts and guest lists from her cancelled wedding all those years ago.

Bellamy plopped down at the table and watched her, though she didn’t make eye contact with him at all. He should have known she’d pull away again. That was how she always responded.

“No, he never saw it either. And it might be nothing, so I won’t get him involved.” Clarke’s stoic face faltered as she stared down one of the pages in the binder. “Just… call me when you get it,” she stuttered out before hanging up.

“Clarke,” Bellamy whispered.

“He’s on the guest list,” she murmured, her eyes not leaving the page. Bellamy rushed over to the other side of the table to see what she was talking about. And right above Clarke’s thumb was _Carl Emerson_ written in a loopy font.

“Who made you invite him?”

“I don’t remember.” And for the first time since he told her, Clarke’s voice start to waver. “But Wells didn’t know him. We had no idea who to put him next to at the reception,” she murmured as she flipped over to the seating chart. Her eyes scanned the page before her finger landed on a table in the corner. “Yeah, we just threw him in with all the other random people we didn’t know.”

Bellamy rested his hand on her back. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Clarke swallowed before straightening her posture. “We don’t know if there’s anything to figure out,” she muttered, and he slammed his eyes shut. Right when he thought Clarke was opening up… “For all we know, Diyoza is just screwing with us. Maybe McCreary too.”

“Clarke, please don’t—”

“There’s nothing we can do until we get our hands on that report, okay?” she snapped. He bit down on his tongue and watched her as she slammed that binder shut. Her hands shook a bit as she went back to rearranging the seating chart, but the rest of her resumed her usual steady front.

He wanted to push her to talk about it. He could see the panic boiling beneath the surface. But Clarke just couldn’t right now, not until she had more time to think and some evidence. So, Bellamy joined her in silently adjusting the chart, occasionally pressing a kiss to her cheek or shoulder when he noticed her tense up. It wasn’t much, and it didn’t fix anything. But it was all he could do for her while they waited. It was all he could do until she was ready to talk about the possibility that Wells Jaha was murdered.

 

* * *

 

He found himself reading every article he could get his hands on about Wells Jaha. Every headline was the same. _Presidential Candidate’s Son Killed in Fatal Car Accident_. There was only one photo of the smashed-up Tesla. And it took exactly one paragraph for each article to highlight the grieving father and fiancée.

Bellamy began jotting down everything he knew when he was alone in his office. Wells Jaha had no known enemies. His father did, though. His wedding was just weeks away when he was killed. He had been fighting with his father for a while before the accident. He wanted to tell Clarke something that night but never got the chance. The night he died, everyone was off. Jaha was already falling down drunk when he got the news. Abby Griffin almost overdosed, which was why Clarke wasn’t in the car. Marcus Kane was the first person anyone could get ahold of to share the news, making him the one who had to tell everyone. It was ruled an accident, but Clarke never got to see the police report. It was possible that none of them got to see the police report.

He went back and circled the fact that Clarke wasn’t in the car, putting in a note that she might have been an intended target. But he doubted that. If someone meant to kill Clarke, they’ve had years’ worth of opportunities to do it.

There was something else Clarke said a long time ago, something that hadn’t quite settled with him. It was how her grandfather suggested she use Wells’ death as a platform to launch her own political career. At the time, it just sounded like typical Walters family drama, just a petty grab for power. But the timing of it…

No. Bellamy shook that thought out of his head. Richard Walters was a monster, but he wouldn’t just kill Wells to create an opportunity that Clarke didn’t want. Besides, Walters was the one who forced Clarke to get engaged to Wells in the first place.

He kept working on his list all afternoon, regularly glancing over at his phone to see if Clarke had called him back yet, but she didn’t. When he called her for the third time and got no answer, the worry was churning in his stomach. Clarke almost always answered. Or she got back to him quickly with an explanation for why she couldn’t talk.

So, he dialed Zeke. “Senator Blake,” he answered.

“Is Clarke still at the office?”

“No, she took today off. Yesterday too. Said she had wedding stuff to deal with.” Bellamy gripped the side of the desk. Clarke had gotten up this morning and yesterday morning, dressed in her work clothes, and walked out the door like everything was normal. She didn’t technically lie to him, though she absolutely lied to Zeke.

“Well, I can’t get ahold of her. Is there a way of finding where she is?” he tried to ask as calmly as possible. But if Clarke wasn’t home and wasn’t at work and wasn’t picking up his phone calls, then he had no idea where she might be or what she might be doing. He was inclined to trust her in normal circumstances, but their situation was far from normal. Clarke going off the grid right after finding out about Wells’ possible murder was justified cause for emergency.

“Short of tracking her phone, no,” Zeke snorted.

“Do it.”

“What?”

“Zeke, she isn’t doing anything for the wedding right now. I can’t give you many details, but she might be in trouble so please.”

“She is my boss. She could fire me for this. And I’m not sure it’s any of my business what she—”

“If she fires you, I’ll hire you. I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t an emergency,” he pleaded. Kane knocked at Bellamy’s door before nudging it open, his eyes wide with concern.

“This stays between us. You tell her I did this, and I’ll hack you and drain your bank account, got it?” He wasn’t sure he could get past the firewall Raven put up, but he wasn’t about to take that risk.

“Yeah, got it.”

“I’ll text you an address.” When the line went dead, Bellamy rested his forehead onto his cool desk.

“What was that?” Kane snapped.

“Nothing,” Bellamy grumbled.

“That didn’t sound like no—”

“Kane,” Bellamy hissed, jerking his head up. “What do you want?”

Kane’s eyes softened as he bit down on his lip. He quietly shut the door behind him and slipped into a chair. “Something is wrong. I’ve been around long enough to recognize the signs. I didn’t act on my better instincts in the past, and I regretted it. Which is why I want to help you now. What is going on?”

“Diyoza told me that Wells Jaha was murdered,” Bellamy blurted out. It was uncanny how Kane’s eyes shifted just like Clarke’s did when she got the news.

“No, not possible. It was an accident,” he reassured.

“Then why was the police report sealed?”

Kane’s mouth snapped shut as he leaned back into his chair. His brows were furrowed in thought, though he was still shaking his head. “What does Clarke think?”

“I haven’t a damn clue. She says she’s fine and that there is no need to jump to conclusions, and then I find out that for the past two days she hasn’t come into work. So who the fuck knows what she has been doing and why?” His phone buzzed at that moment, a street address just out of the city limits sent from an anonymous text.

 

* * *

 

Zeke led him to a house. Well, small mansion seemed to be a better term. He’d think he was sent on a wild goose chase if it weren’t for Clarke’s car parked on the street.

He stood on the porch after knocking on the door, his eyes scanning the street. What would Clarke be doing in the middle of suburbia? There was a school bus passing this street and a tired man in a suit grumbling as he looked into his mailbox. It was a far cry from the shady alleyways or rat trap apartments of investigative journalists that his mind conjured up when he first he realized he had no idea where Clarke was. No, she was in some family’s home.

After his third knock and no answer, he tried to doorknob, finding it to be unlocked. The door creaked open quietly and Bellamy tiptoed in. There wasn’t a single light on in the downstairs, though light streamed in from the windows. It was a nicely furnished house. The dining room table to his left looked straight out of Pottery Barn. To his right was the living room, which was quite homey. Books and picture frames covered the shelves, the couch looked like it had actually been used.

But as Bellamy stepped into the room, he noticed something oddly familiar on that shelf. A photo he had seen before. The photo of Clarke and Wells playing as kids, the same one that sat on her nightstand in their apartment. Actually, all the photos were of Wells. One of him and his dad on the campaign trail. Another of him at the Governor’s Mansion with Jake Griffin. A shot of him and Clarke at their graduation.

Bellamy turned around again, now noticing the dust gathered on the coffee table and the four year old magazines on top of it, and it clicked. He was in Wells Jaha’s house… a house that hadn’t been touched in four years.

He darted up the stairs and started checking behind the doors. An office. A spare bedroom. Another office. A master bedroom with bright yellow walls and white furniture. This wasn’t Wells’ room. No, not when there was familiar abstract art hanging on the walls and a plush fur rug that Wells would never pick out for himself.

The curiosity got the better of him and he stepped inside. The bed wasn’t made. Half the comforter had been pushed off the bed, the same way Clarke’s bed often was in the morning. This was Clarke’s room.

Bellamy fell back against the wall, feeling short of breath as he scanned the room. She lived here. Or had just started to since her wedding had been three weeks away when Wells died. She had her own room here, had started moving her clothes here, and then never came back for her things.

If the tears were prickling in his own eyes at the thought, he couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Clarke to be back in this house, to see the life she almost had, to remember who she lost.

He pushed himself off her wall and started down the hallway. A lot of rooms were empty, potential bedrooms for children, he imagined. And when he got to the very end, he knew there was only one room left: Wells’.

The door didn’t creak as he nudged it open. He tiptoed inside, scanning the room for his fiancée. But instead, he found all the drawers opened and rummaged through. Boxes pulled out from under the bed. Papers scattered all over the perfectly made bed. No Clarke, though.

He was about to step back out when he noticed a light shining under the bathroom door. He stepped toward it and pressed his ear to the door. That was definitely Clarke’s sobbing on the other side of it. He pushed it open, revealing a large master bathroom with a walk-in closet attached to it.

“Clarke,” he called out when he didn’t see her in the bathroom.

“In here,” she cried, and he stormed toward the closet to find Clarke curled up in the corner, heaving into her knees. There was a laptop at her side and the ground was littered with flash drives and notebooks.

“Baby, hey,” he cooed as he crouched down in front of her. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, her mascara dripping down her cheeks. “You’re okay. I’m here.” He cupped her cheeks between his hands and tried wiping the many tears away. “What is going on? I was so worried about you.”

“I figured out what Wells wanted to tell me.”

“What?”

She rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand and sniffled before pointing behind him.

Wells’ suits had been pulled off the rack, revealing what should have been a beige wall. But instead, the wall was littered with news articles and photos and different colored strings connecting them all. Wells must have used his clothes as a curtain to cover up his work.

Bellamy pushed himself up and furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to find the dead center. His eyes scanned articles about voting machines and primaries and the Jake Griffin campaign along with images of Kane, Abby, Jaha, and Richard Walters. And a chill went up his spine when he locked eyes with the image that started this eerily familiar spiderweb: a photo from Jake Griffin’s assassination.

“Clarke.”

“He figured out who killed my dad. And it got him killed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to everyone who commented in the earlier chapters and sent me asks saying that they were so happy there wasn't some crazy conspiracy like in scandal... i had to remove myself from the keyboard before typing "honey you got a big storm comin"


	16. I Can't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I didn't update last week. Life has been a mess.

“I don’t understand,” Bellamy whispered. He couldn’t figure out what on the wall to look at. It was all too jumbled and confusing for him to make sense of. There were too many people he knew and recognized up there connected to things he had never heard of. A massive red question mark rested beside Kane’s photo, which made Bellamy’s stomach turn.

“Bell.” He turned around to look at her, and she was patting the ground next to him. He shakily sat beside her as she pulled the laptop back into her lap.

“What is all this?” he asked, gesturing to the flash drives scattered around Clarke.

“Wells recorded his conversations,” she whispered as she pressed play. A loud rustling noise broke through the speakers, and Clarke turned it down. “This one was the afternoon of the accident.”

“Clarke.”

“You ever heard of Mt. Weather County?” Clarke asked, and Bellamy flinched when he realized the rustling he was hearing was Wells’ clothes as he huffed to wherever he was going.

“No.”

“It was one of the counties that decided the Republican primary when my dad ran.” Bellamy’s eyes shot up to the wall, staring right at the article that covered voting machines in that county. “Apparently, Wells overheard our dads arguing about that specific county one night and decided to look into it.”

“Hey, is my dad around?” he heard Wells’ voice say on the recording, and goosebumps covered Bellamy’s arms. There was some more shuffling before it went back to its normal rustling.

“This was the only recording that had Thelonious in it,” Clarke explained before wiping her tears away with her palm. Bellamy grabbed her other hand, offering her a small squeeze.

“Wells! What are you doing here?” Jaha said through the speaker, and Bellamy let his eyes fall shut. “Thought you and Clarke were busy with wedding arrangements today.”

“Clarke had to cancel. Abby isn’t feeling well again.” Bellamy could feel Clarke tense beside him at those words. Right, that was the day Abby overdosed. “Look, I need to talk to you about something.” A door shut in the recording, and Jaha seemed to be stepping toward Wells.

“Does this have anything to do with what you asked Marcus about?” His voice was quieter now, less welcoming than before.

“He told you,” Wells whispered. “Of course, he did.”

“And he warned you to drop it, right? I suggest you take his advice.” There was some shuffling in the room followed by a loud groan from Jaha. “Wells, this conversation is over.”

“Don’t you think I deserve some kind of explanation? At least tell me if those machines were really rigged.”

“I said this conversation is over,” Jaha growled.

“So, that’s a yes.” More shuffling, as if Wells were blocking the exit from Jaha. “And you knew.”

“Wells—”

“Did you know?”

Bellamy flinched when the shuffling grew louder. He opened his eyes to look over at Clarke, whose eyes were fixed on the wall across from them, not even flinching.

“Keep your voice down,” Jaha whispered.

“Tell me.”

“Yes, I knew. Abby knew too. Marcus figured it out on his own.”

“And Jake? Did he know?”

“Only after Marcus told him,” he sighed.

“So, election rigging,” Bellamy whispered to Clarke. “Your family really doesn’t give a shit about the law, do they?”

“You have no idea,” Clarke whispered, her gaze still not moving from the wall.

“Wells, where are you going?” Jaha shouted on the recording, and Clarke gripped his hand tighter. “Wells!” The shuffling grew louder before a door slam made Bellamy jump. “Wells, stop.”

“Did you hire Shumway?” Wells growled. “Or was it Abby?”

“You know I’d never do that,” Jaha snapped, and a loud crash blasted through the speakers. “Wells, you don’t understand—”

“I understand that Jake Griffin found out his best friend and wife helped rig the primary and was going to come clean. And the very night he was going to confess the truth to the American public, he was shot before he even uttered a word. So, who made that happen? You or Abby?”

Bellamy glanced over at Clarke again, and the tears were pouring down her cheeks. “Clarke,” he whispered, hearing his own voice break as he spoke. She turned and buried her face into his suit jacket, letting out a loud sob.

“Wells—”

“Who made the call to kill him so that it never got out?”

“Wells,” Jaha whispered, his voice so low that Bellamy almost couldn’t hear him. “We wouldn’t do that. I loved Jake. So did Abby. We were trying to talk him out of confessing. I have no idea if he was even going to go through with confessing the truth that night.”

“But if you two didn’t do it…” It clicked in Bellamy’s mind right as it seemed to for Wells. There was only one person he could think of ruthless enough to put a bullet in Jake’s head to keep this quiet. “I have to tell Clarke.”

“No, you can’t—”

“Her father is dead because of him. Richard’s gonna walk her down the aisle in his place, and she doesn’t even know that he killed her dad! She deserves to—"

Clarke slammed the laptop shut and pushed herself upright. “I think that’s enough for you to get the picture,” she whispered, using her palm to wipe a tear from her cheek.

Bellamy pulled her toward him, situating her legs over his as she melted into his chest. “Clarke,” he murmured into her hair, shaking his head slightly. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time. Instead, she heaved into his chest while he rocked her. He couldn’t think of anything to do or say to make this any better. He couldn’t imagine what must be going through her mind right now. So, he stayed quiet too, occasionally peppering kisses into her hair as she sobbed.

Bellamy hadn’t felt this helpless in so long. Usually, he knew how to make Clarke feel better. He had learned how she liked to be comforted and consoled, but that was when Clarke was grieving or recovering from a fight with her family… not when she found out that her grandfather had her father assassinated and that her dead fiancé had figured that all out before dying just as mysteriously.

“Wait,” he whispered, and Clarke’s head popped up. Her eyes were bright red and tears streamed down her cheeks. The sight alone made his chest ache. “Wells confronted his dad about this the day he died. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Clarke’s eyes dropped down to his chest, her lips pursing like they always do when she doesn’t like what she has to say. “It’s not. One of two things happened: Thelonious told my grandfather about it or my grandfather had that entire house bugged and found out that way. Either way, he killed Wells before he could tell anyone what he found out. There’s no other explanation.”

She stood up and headed toward the bathroom, and Bellamy’s eyes were glued to the wall. His hands felt like they were shaking as Bellamy pushed himself up, and his legs felt like they would give out as he got closer. Wells Jaha must have spent years trying to find the truth, and it got him killed.

Bellamy’s stomach flipped when he realized that Wells died because he knew too much, and now, Bellamy and Clarke know everything he did. If Richard Walters had no qualms about assassinating Jake and faking an accident for Wells, Bellamy could easily be next.

“Clarke.” He stepped into the bathroom, and Clarke had her hands braced on the counter as she stared at her own reflection. There was a question on his lips, one that he hadn’t had in so long. Bellamy had gotten so settled in his new life as a senator, growing more and more sure by the day of what he’s doing. When little crises came up in the last few weeks, Bellamy was ready with next steps, calm, cool, and collected. But his voice cracked when he asked, “What do we do?”

She swallowed, and her gaze dropped to the sink for a moment. He stepped behind her, resting his shaky hand on her lower back. “You need to call Marcus.”

“And tell him that your grandfather killed Wells?” he snapped. “I’m pretty sure Richard won’t have a problem with killing off Kane to keep this quiet too.”

There was a small twitch of her jaw before she stood upright and turned to face him. She pushed the tears away with her palm and looked Bellamy square in the eye. “No, you need to ask him about the plan he made in case I broke our contract.”

“What?”

“Just trust me. He has one.”

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy huffed.

“You’re going to need to look over that plan before you call off our wedding, so call him right now.”

“We’re not calling off our wedding, Clarke. You’re not making any sense.”

“Yes, I am!” she snapped before putting her hands over her head and pacing away from him. “Please, can you just call him and ask?”

Bellamy grabbed her by the waist and forced her to turn around. “No, not when I don’t know why you’re talking about canceling our wedding.”

“You know why. Don’t make me say it,” she whispered with her eyes clenched shut.

“Clarke,” he whispered, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Talk to me.”

Her head fell onto his chest and she broke into another heave. “I can’t lose you too,” she cried into his shirt, and he pulled his arms tighter around her.

“You’re not,” he promised into her ear as he rocked her, but she just shook her head.

“Bell, please. You need to get as far away from me as possible. From my family. Just trust me.” Bellamy tilted her head up with one of his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t—”

“I’m not going anywhere, Clarke.” She clenched her eyes shut and pushed back from him, but he didn’t let go.

“Stop. It’s the only choice, okay?” she huffed, but he still didn’t let go. Her eyes snapped open, watery and widened. “Bellamy, use your head. After hearing what you just heard, you know I’m right.”

“You’re not—”

“Really?” she yelled, now breaking away from him to stomp back toward Wells’ closet. “Do you want to listen to all the recordings that cover the man who killed my father? Or should I call Zeke and have him explain to you that Wells’ accident report was mysteriously destroyed, likely after someone with a lot of connections paid to make that happen?”

“Clarke,” he pleaded, but she just kept shaking her head as the tears poured down her cheeks.

She paced in the closet, her eyes purposefully avoiding his. “It won’t be clean, but it’s doable,” she muttered. “Call Marcus, start his back up plan, we have an amicable, quiet separation that will do minimal damage to your numbers…”

“Do you think I give a shit about my numbers?” he snapped, but she wasn’t even listening to him.

“… and you’ll be safe. I could probably—”

“No,” he said, low and stern, and Clarke finally jerked her head back in his direction. Her lips parted as her entire body froze. “What is plan B?”

“There is no plan B.” Her brows were furrowed as she stared at him in disbelief. “I don’t even have a plan A, Bellamy. I just know how to get you out of this—”

“I said no—"

“—so that he doesn’t target you when he figures out that I know what he did.”

A shudder washed over him as Clarke finished her sentence. They just confirmed the panic that seeped into his mind earlier. If Bellamy stayed, he could be next. But if he left…

Something sharp pulled in his stomach at the idea of walking away from Clarke, of walking away from their life together. Their sleepy mornings. Their chaotic evenings. The way her voice grew warmer when talking to him. The comfort her presence gave him even when everything else had gone to hell that day.

No. What she was suggesting was out of the question. Bellamy couldn’t go back to the life he had before her. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispered, and Clarke threw her head back with a groan.

“How are you being so calm about this?” she huffed.

“I’m not. I’m fucking terrified,” he snapped as Clarke leaned against the doorframe, turning her head away from his. “But we will figure it out.”

Her head tilted up toward the ceiling, her jaw twitching as she pursed her lips together. “Bellamy, why are you making me say this out loud?” she whispered, her eyes not leaving the ceiling. “I can’t marry you.”

That sharp feeling tugged again in his stomach as he stepped in front of her and cupped her face to make her look at him.

“I can’t,” she repeated, her eyes welling up with tears. “I can’t.” She kept whispering those broken words as he leaned in to kiss her, clutching his collar like her life depended on it as his lips grazed hers.

“Please,” was all he could choke out between desperate kisses. He had her caged against the doorframe, holding her trembling body as he begged for a different answer. “We can be careful.”

“Bell—”

“I’ll make Diyoza think I didn’t take the bait, that I never even looked into it. No one has to know what we figured out just yet,” he promised. “We can play dumb until we figure out what to do.”

“You don’t—”

“I’m not leaving,” he whispered, letting his forehead rest against hers. “I can’t.”

Her bright eyes met his again as she forced a weak smile. He pushed a few of her tears back as she blinked up at him. “You should,” she murmured.

“But I can’t. And I won’t.” Her bottom lip began to quiver again, so he pecked her lips again to try to make it go away. She opened her mouth to argue with him, but before she got a single word out, he said, “I love you, Clarke.”

Her mouth snapped shut as her eyes softened, and he could barely hear her breathing over the sound of his own heart pounding. There was no audience for this declaration. No excuse to keep up appearances. No possibility that Clarke didn’t hear him. Just the truth and the deafening silence that followed.

Bellamy watched her dark lashes rise and fall with every blink, and his thumb traced over the little mole over her lip. His eyes fell shut when she exhaled.

“I love you too.”

It was so quiet that he almost didn’t hear it. It was so soft that he wasn’t sure it was real. But when he opened his eyes again and saw her bright, teary eyes beaming up at him, he knew it was.

“Yeah?” he whispered, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips.

“Yeah.”

He let his eyes fall shut again as he exhaled, and he could feel Clarke relaxing against him. “So, plan B?”

“We play dumb, just like you said,” Clarke sighed. “Until we figure out what to do.”

 

* * *

 

Bellamy beat Clarke back to the apartment. She stayed behind to hide the recordings she found, just in case someone else decided to visit Wells Jaha’s old house.

He waited by his car for her, his body relaxing as soon as he saw her pull in. They didn’t say a word as they walked out of the garage together. Clarke just leaned against him and he kept his hand at her back.

His thoughts were all over the place. One second, he was rejoicing that Clarke loved him too. The next, he was imagining how hard it would be to play dumb at his own wedding in just a few days.

“Bellamy,” Clarke whispered. She had stopped walking, only gesturing with her head down the hallway. He followed her gaze, spotting a familiar figure standing outside their door.

“Oh my God,” he muttered, tugging Clarke by the hand as he nearly darted down the hallway.

Octavia spotted them as she turned around, and a small, almost pleasant smile formed on her lips. “Hi, Bell!”


	17. The Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends. Long time no see. I'm sorry I didn't update last Monday. And I'm sorry to say that it probably won't be the last time that happens. Honestly, I'm just amazed I kept on a writing schedule as long as I did. But as those of you who keep up with me on tumblr know, my dad, after 99 days, has finally come home. And while it is great to have him home again, it means that I have far fewer hours in the day to write and edit than before. And on top of that, I've been in a bad headspace for a while, which has made writing this fic in particular harder. 
> 
> So, I am going to do my best to get an update up every Monday, fully aware that there are some weeks where that just isn't going to happen. We'll see how this goes. Thanks for your patience.

Bellamy was mid hug when he noticed the bags on the ground. A suitcase and a duffel. “I tried to call and tell you,” Octavia whispered.

“I’m sorry, I—” He cut himself off before he spit out some lie. Octavia knew why he didn’t answer, so there was no point in giving her a fake story that she’d just throw in his face later. “It’s so good to see you.”

When he pulled back, he glanced at her more closely this time. Octavia’s hair was a bit shorter than before, her eye makeup darker. On her shoulder, he could see a tiny sliver of a tattoo that wasn’t there last time he was in the same room as her. But overall, she still looked more or less the same.

She was studying him too, her dark eyes as intense as he remembered. There was still a smile on her lips, one he didn’t trust, when she turned her head in Clarke’s direction. “And you must be Clarke,” she said, breaking away from Bellamy before pulling Clarke into a hug.

Clarke’s confused eyes locked with Bellamy’s as she hugged her back, her eyebrow raised in a question. They hadn’t thought Octavia would bother coming to the wedding, yet here she was… bags in hand, apparently staying with them.

“It is so good to finally meet you.” Octavia’s voice was too cheerful and warm, and he tried to shake his panic away as he unlocked the door. “Bell wouldn’t shut up about you last time we talked.” And the lies had already begun.

“I had no idea you were coming,” Clarke said in that honey sweet voice she used to mask her panic. Bellamy shot her an apologetic look as the two girls brushed past him into the apartment.

“Well, I tried to tell him, but for some reason, it has been impossible to get him on the phone,” Octavia replied, her eyes flitting up to meet his at the very end of her sentence. His jaw set as he stared her down. After a few seconds, she seemed to get bored with their mutual glaring and followed after Clarke into the kitchen. “This is a gorgeous apartment.”

Bellamy dragged Octavia’s things into the guest bedroom, listening attentively to their conversation. It was just small talk about Octavia’s flight now, nothing to get too worried about. No, he was certain Octavia would wait until Clarke was out of earshot before saying what she really wants to say. So, he gave himself a moment before throwing himself back into the lion’s den.

He counted to thirty in his head, though the calm that usually came didn’t this time. What did he expect when not an hour ago Clarke was trying to call off the wedding after finding out why Wells died and now his sister was here?

When he couldn’t stand being alone with his thoughts for a moment longer, he finally made his way back to the girls. Octavia was sitting up by the counter, a glass of water in hand, and Clarke was quickly listing off information about the wedding.

“So, how’d you trick this one into going for a big wedding?” Octavia asked, nudging Bellamy in the side as he walked up to them. He flinched. She didn’t notice.

But Clarke did. Her jaw set as she locked eyes with Bellamy, and he quickly plastered a small smile on his lips. “I spend all my time surrounded by lots of people, O. A big wedding isn’t a big deal,” he said. Clarke pressed her lips together into a thin line.

“Look who actually grew up,” Octavia snorted. “Alright, where is the bathroom?”

Clarke pushed off the counter and started walking Octavia to the hallway. Bellamy headed to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He chugged until Clarke came back in. “I didn’t know she was coming,” he whispered, taking a step toward her.

“Are you going to be okay?” Clarke’s eyes were wide as she stared up at him, her brows knitted in concentration.

“Yeah.” His hands slid up and down her arms, but he could still sense that Clarke wanted to say something about Octavia. But there was a time and a place to talk about how hard it was for Octavia to be here again, and that wasn’t right now. Not when they were just days away from their wedding and Clarke was barely holding it together after the revelations about her dad and Wells. “Maybe you’d feel better if you lied down for a bit, huh? Just had some quiet time?”

“I’m not leaving you alone with—”

“I will be fine. I’ve dealt with her for an entire lifetime,” he whispered. “But you need—”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, and he just cocked his head to the side. After a beat, her face faltered in concession.

“It’s okay. Just go rest for a bit. And I can figure out what she’s doing here.”

Clarke opened her mouth to argue, but the bathroom door swung open, so she snapped it shut. “So, I could really get used to the first-class lifestyle. They had like actual food. None of that pretzel and flat soda nonsense,” Octavia said as she skipped back into the kitchen.

“How did you afford a first-class ticket?” Bellamy asked.

“I didn’t. Clarke’s grandfather sent it to me.” His head snapped in Clarke’s direction, catching her deer in the headlights look.

“He—” Her brows unfurrowed as her eyes shot up to Bellamy. After a beat, her eyes recovered and she looked back at Octavia. “That was so thoughtful of him. I should… I’m gonna go call him and thank him.”

Before he could follow after her, Octavia hopped back up in her seat. “So, when’s Miller getting here?”

Their bedroom door slammed shut, and the sound echoed throughout the whole apartment. “Tomorrow morning. He’ll be happy to see you.” He turned to look at Octavia, who was picking at her split ends. “Can I get you anything besides water? We’ve got beer. The good stuff, not the shit we used to drink.”

“I’m good.” He narrowed his eyes at her, but she didn’t seem to be acting off… which was weird because she never turned down a drink. This was the girl would chug his beer if he left the room when she was still a minor. And here she was, in his apartment with probably a million things to yell at him about, and she’s good with her water.

“You hungry? I could fix you something,” he suggested, shaking those thoughts from his head. There was no point trying to understand why Octavia does anything. There has never been rhyme or reason for how she acts around him, and he’ll drive himself mad trying to make sense of it.

“I’m good. Seriously, I filled up on rich people airplane food,” she snorted. “You don’t have to take care of me, Bell. I know you have lots of wedding stuff to work on. And besides, I’m about ready to pass out anyway. I worked the night shift last night, so I’m dead tired.”

“Oh.” She hopped off her seat and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Right, yeah. Get some rest. We can hang out more tomorrow.”

“Ooh, can I come to work with you?” she teased. “See where my taxpayer dollars are going?”

“Yeah sure,” he blurted out before he thought better of it, and she took off toward the guest room.

Bellamy didn’t move an inch until he heard her door slam shut. But as soon as it did, he could feel his back lose its rigidness. He fell back against the counter and downed the rest of his beer.

He had no idea what was going on. Whatever control he had over his life just a week ago was gone. Disappeared in just a day.

He tiptoed toward his room, feeling ridiculous the entire time. But his muscle memory kicked back in after years of tiptoeing around that tiny house so that Octavia wouldn’t know he was home. All these years have passed, and he still felt like he had to hide from her.

He let the door creak as it opened, a tiny declaration, to himself or to Octavia he’s not quite sure, that things were different now. That this was his home. His family. But he felt stupid for being so proud of it. All he did was open a door. It wasn’t like he finally stood up to her.

Clarke was cocooned in blankets in their bed, her face buried into his pillow. “Baby,” he whispered, shutting the door behind him.

“I’m sorry he sent her the ticket,” she mumbled as he sat on the edge of the bed. “He said it was a wedding present for you since we kept saying that Octavia might not be able to come. Guess he thought she couldn’t afford the trip or something.”

“Hey, that’s not what I’m worried about right now.” His hand smoothed over her back, rubbing a small circle with his thumb. “For the first time in my life, she is the least of my worries.” A broken chuckle escaped Clarke’s lips, and he smiled weakly at her. “What do you need? Want to talk about it or make a plan or—”

“Just get in bed with me.”

He undressed quickly and pulled on his pajamas. Clarke unrolled from the blankets once he got into bed beside her, opting to bury her face into his chest instead. “It’s gonna be okay,” he promised her.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

 

* * *

 

Octavia didn’t leave him alone for a second. No, she was serious about coming to work with him. He spent every spare moment listening to her anecdotes about her new job or an ongoing feud with her landlord or some crazy party she went to. And every time she opened her mouth, he braced himself for what was surely on its way… but it never came.

It certainly didn’t help that everyone who met her adored her. Raven got along great with her at the office. Maya and Octavia were cracking jokes all day yesterday. And now that they were at the rehearsal, all his friends couldn’t stop talking to her long enough to realize that the rehearsal was starting.

“You okay?” Miller asked, and Bellamy forced a nod. Something ugly and dark churned in his stomach, that temper he tried so hard to keep in check. It wasn’t his friends’ fault that they didn’t know what kind of person Octavia was. Bellamy never told them the truth, just left them to assume they weren’t that close anymore. But he still hated how easily she charmed them, how easy it was for her to put on the mask of the good sister.

And he hated that they still hadn’t talked. It was like she was waiting for the right moment to strike, waiting for him to let his guard down before she snapped.

The wedding planner was trying to gather the bridal party, shouting over the chatter without much success. This whole thing could be done in ten minutes if everyone just shut up.

When Clarke didn’t step in to get everyone in line, he realized that she wasn’t actually in the room. “Where is Clarke?”

“Outside talking to your boss.”

“Kane isn’t my boss. I’m his boss,” Bellamy huffed.

“Doesn’t look like that,” Miller snorted as Bellamy stormed down the aisle toward the exit.

When he found them, Kane was pacing back and forth and Clarke had her arms crossed. “Oh, thank God. Come talk some sense into her,” Kane huffed.

Before Bellamy could even open his mouth, Clarke snapped, “It is my decision, Marcus.”

“Last week, you were fine with him walking you down the aisle. And now, you’re refusing to let him walk you?”

“I just want to walk by myself!”

“At least consider—"

“No,” Clarke growled. Bellamy sidestepped toward her, placing his hand firm on her shoulder. Her jaw relaxed just a little, though her eyes remained murderous as she glared at Kane. “I am walking on my own.”

“Everyone knows Richard was going to walk you at you and Wells’ wedding. It’s going to look horrible if you refuse to let him now. You really want that kind of negative publicity?”

Bellamy tried to jump in, but Clarke’s mind was quicker than his. “When are you going to stop treating me like the client’s daughter and instead like your fucking client?”

“That’s not—”

“Guys,” Bellamy snapped, and both their heads jerked in his direction. “She’s not walking with him. End of discussion.”

“But… you see how bad that looks, right? The media will jump all over it,” Kane argued. But even that sounded better than Clarke being escorted by the man who orchestrated the murder of her father.

“Then, figure out a better plan,” Bellamy replied, and Clarke let out a loud exhale.

Kane’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. The three of them stood out in that hallway, Kane pacing back and forth as he thought. Bellamy linked hands with Clarke and brought her hand up to his lips, relieved to see a weak smile on her lips.

This week had been hell. Between Octavia and the wedding, the two of them hardly had a moment of peace. And those few moments were usually full of tears as Clarke broke down about what could happen if anyone found out what they learned.

“Alright, I think I got it,” he sighed. “Richard doesn’t walk you down the aisle. Thelonious does.” Clarke dropped Bellamy’s hand and her eyes went wide. If she couldn’t stomach having her grandfather walk her, there was no way Jaha would be much better. “The media will take it as a homage to Wells. And besides, he already thinks of you like his daughter. It’ll be a beautiful story and no one will notice that you’re not having your grandfather be part of the ceremony.”

Clarke pressed her lips together, clearly trying to think of a way to explain that wouldn’t work without revealing her hand. Kane’s eyes drifted from her up to Bellamy.

“What is really going on here?” he asked.

“The Secret Service hasn’t prepared for that kind of thing,” Bellamy blurted out.

“They’re already planning on him being here. They’ll just need a few extra snipers since he’ll be a moving target now.”

“It just might not be the right move for Bellamy’s political future,” Clarke tried, and Kane just cocked his head to the side. “A Republican president involved in his wedding might alienate him from the liberal base. That party is threatening another government shutdown, so I don’t think we should draw attention to our entanglements with Thelonious.”

“We issue statements that this is a celebration of love and unity, an event free from politics and bipartisan bickering. I could write this in my sleep. Throw in that you’re the daughter of a beloved conservative marrying a rising star in the Democratic party, and it’ll sound like a happier ending to Romeo and Juliet,” he huffed, his eyes now meeting Bellamy’s. “Next bullshit argument?”

Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a look while Kane just shook his head. “Then, it’s settled.” Before Bellamy could protest, Kane strode away from them, already pulling out his phone to make it happen.

He was about to chase after him when Clarke pulled him back by the arm. “Don’t,” she whispered.

“I’m not gonna let you be forced into having him walk you down the aisle. Not after what he did to your father. Not on our wedding day,” Bellamy huffed, and Clarke took his hands in hers.

“Marcus knows what happened to my dad, or at least, most of it. If we keep pushing this, he might figure out we know.”

She was right, of course. They had no idea the extent to which Kane knew, but he knew something about it. He knew enough to recognize that they knew… which meant they had to be careful around him.

“Still, there has to be a way to convince—”

“We can’t. He’s too busy picturing the boost this will give your career.”

“I don’t give a damn about my career,” he huffed, and a small chuckle escaped Clarke’s lips.

“Yeah, you do,” she grinned. “You love getting to help people. You love getting to protect policies that give millions of Americans adequate healthcare…” She was toying with the collar of his jacket now, her smile growing bigger with each word. “You love getting to talk with your constituents. You love your job.” He ducked his head and nodded softly. “And I love that about you.”

His eyes met hers, and he swore his heart was about to pound its way out of his chest. After the last year together, he should have been used to her saying things like that. Since the very beginning, she had been this affirming and loving voice that took down the panicked insecurities raging in his mind. He wasn’t sure he had ever had that kind of voice in his life before her.

“I love you,” he whispered, cupping her cheek with his hand. There was a small blush in her cheeks, a shy smile forming on her lips.

“I love you too.” The two of them still weren’t used saying those words aloud. Each time they did, it was whispered like a secret, like they were trying to keep the real love declarations to themselves. The words were always accompanied with the same nervous energy that he had on their first date together.

“Look, you don’t have to walk with Thelonious. I don’t care if the press is all over it.”

“It’s just a short little walk. A meaningless one, really,” Clarke sighed. He knew it wasn’t meaningless to her. It was the walk she was supposed to get with her dad. “And I don’t know if we can trust Marcus, so we can’t keep arguing against it without revealing our hand. Besides, all that matters is getting down that aisle and being with you.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but Clarke took the opportunity to press a kiss to his lips. He melted into the kiss, savoring her soft lips pressing hard against his.

They just had to get through tomorrow. It wouldn’t be the wedding either of them wanted, not now. Not when they knew what they did and had to put on brave faces. Not with the ticking time bomb named Octavia lingering around their home. Not when Clarke still couldn’t sleep at night. Not when Bellamy’s nightmares were getting worse and worse.

But he was marrying the woman he loves tomorrow. And that was all the reason he needed to keep pushing forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, wedding chapter! It's gonna be a clusterfuck, but the vows will be lovely, I swear.


	18. Forever Yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the one where bellamy has been waiting for the better part of a year to marry clarke but the idea of waiting two more hours is just too much

A loud knocking on his bedroom door jerked him out of sleep. He sat upright, panicking when he didn’t see Clarke lying beside him.

“Bell! Get up or you’ll be late for your own wedding!” Octavia yelled as she opened the door, and Bellamy let out a sigh of relief. Right. He’s getting married today. Clarke stayed at a hotel so they could obey the rule about not seeing the bride before the wedding.

Octavia plopped down onto his bed with a huge smile on her lips. “What are you so excited about?” His tone was teasing, but he couldn’t help but feel anxious at how pleasant she had been. Last night, she came home from the rehearsal completely sober, watched a movie with him, and went to sleep without fuss. Just six months ago, she was telling him that their mother was rolling in her grave because of who Bellamy is marrying, and now, she was an excited and respectful wedding guest. Something was off here.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” His stomach clenched as she wrapped her hand around his wrist and started pulling him out of bed. Bellamy stumbled after her, his mind still foggy from sleep. But a small smile crept onto his lips when he saw a stack of pancakes and a plate of bacon on the kitchen table. “Thought since this is a big day for you, I’d make you breakfast like you’d always do for me.”

The Blake’s didn’t have much growing up, but at the very least, they had their famous big breakfasts. It was how they celebrated birthdays so that their mom could do something special before she had to go in for a double shift. It was how Bellamy tried cheering Octavia up after her first break up. It was how he got Octavia out of bed in the weeks following their mother’s death. The big breakfasts were the one constant throughout the good and the bad, the exciting milestones and the heartbreaks.

He hadn’t thought much about them over the years. It felt like that tradition died when Octavia ran off. But here she was, making him breakfast on the morning of his wedding.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he choked out, feeling his eyes threatening tears.

“I wanted to,” she grinned. “So, the pancakes on top are the least burnt, so I figured those can be yours.” She darted into the kitchen to grab orange juice as he sat down. “Do you want some fruit too?”

“This is perfect, O.” Her eyes relaxed a little at his words, and she plopped down in the chair next to him, sitting cross legged in the seat. “I think I have some champagne if you want to turn these into mimosas.”

“Oh, I’m good with just orange juice,” she chuckled as she pried a pancake off the top.

It felt… normal. Just the two of them cracking jokes over breakfast. Octavia still douses everything in syrup and eats her pancakes with her hands. He still obsessively needs to adjust her glass so that she doesn’t accidentally knock it over, even though that only happened one time when she was little. The only thing missing was their mom snatching pieces of bacon off their plates when they weren’t looking.

“So, you ready for today?” Octavia asked as Bellamy tossed his napkin onto the table.

“Ready to marry Clarke? Absolutely. I would have married her the day we met if she’d let me,” he snorted. “The rest of it, maybe.” Her eyes faltered for a moment, though the smile remained plastered on her lips. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a little jealous of what you two have, I guess.” Bellamy swallowed, hating himself for not realizing how hard this must be for her after losing Lincoln. He was about to say something about it when Octavia jumped up to her feet. “I have a present for you,” she announced before jogging off to the guest room.

“You didn’t have to get me anything!” he shouted after her before clearing the plates.

Soon, he’d have to get dressed and head to the church to make sure everything is in place. And at some point, he had to practice his vows. God forbid he stutters over his words in front of all of Washington.

When she came back in the room, she was holding a small blue box with a bright white bow. “It’s not much,” she whispered as she extended it out to him. He pulled the ribbon and opened the box faster than a kid on Christmas morning. Inside were silver cufflinks. “Read the inscription.”

He narrowed his eyes at the small engraving. One cufflink read _at the touch of love_ , and the other read _everyone becomes a poet_.

“Mom loved that quote,” he whispered, a small smile forming on his lips. Those words hung above her bed for years, painted onto the wall with a cheap stencil. It was a quote she teased him with when he attempted his first love letter to his middle school crush. Bellamy had always found this Plato quote sappy and overused, but it was one that always reminded him of Aurora Blake. Just like breakfasts and Octavia. And it was suddenly hitting him how badly he wished his mom were here today.

“Yeah, I know. Thought you could wear them today… kind of like Mom is here with you.” Without a word, he pulled Octavia into his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. The tears freely fell from his eyes, and he could feel Octavia soaking his t-shirt with her own tears as well.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I love it so much.”

 

* * *

 

The press was already staking out the venue, snapping photos like mad as Bellamy drove past the gate. There would be representatives from most major news outlets and a few smaller ones that Clarke had personal ties to at the wedding itself. The rest of the media was kept far away from the event. The security was far more intense than any other wedding this season because President Jaha would be attending. Every guest, photographer, and caterer underwent background checks and investigations.

Bellamy arrived exactly one hour after Clarke did so that there wasn’t a risk of them running into each other. He did a walk through of the church and then inspected the reception hall, making sure all the tables were exactly as they planned them. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to do this. After all, Clarke got here early and would have gotten everything perfect before he even arrived. But he just wanted to check. Something was bound to go wrong today, so it couldn’t hurt to double check everything.

None of his groomsmen would arrive for a while, but he went downstairs to the dressing room anyway. All the black tuxes were hung up, perfectly ironed and ready to be put on. When Bellamy got to his, he found a small envelope with his name in Clarke’s handwriting. He sat down on the bench and tore the envelope open, a smile already forming on his face as he saw her messy, loopy handwriting covering the entire page.

_Bellamy,_

_I know that in a few hours I’ll be reciting my official vows to you, but you and I both know the story we share with the world isn’t our real one. So, these are my real vows:_

_Before I met you, I was lost. I had no idea that I was until you showed up at that courthouse. I promised myself before meeting you in that diner that I wouldn’t come back to Washington. I told myself there was nothing you could say or do that would make it all worth it. After everything that happened with Wells and my dad, I was so sure that nothing could ever make me want to come back._

_I was wrong. So incredibly wrong. I knew I was wrong the second you stood up to leave and I realized that I might not ever see you again. There was something about you that drew me in, something I didn’t quite understand at the time._

_Now, I do understand. I had already begun to fall for that beautiful heart of yours. No wonder I didn’t recognize it. I had never fallen like that before, so it was a foreign feeling to me. But now, I feel pangs of it constantly. I feel it during your speeches. I feel it when your face lights up as you read letters from your constituents. I feel it when you squeeze my hand to remind me that you’re there._

_It’s odd looking back at that night in the diner where I sat for hours trying to decide what to do about you. It’s odd because I actually thought I was making a decision. But there was no choice to make. Your heart had already staked its claim on mine. I just didn’t know it yet._

_Now, we’re about to walk down the aisle, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to get all this. My heart was this cold, shattered little thing, and now it’s so full and warm in a way that it has never been before. And that’s all because of you, the man I love more than anything._

_I love you, Bellamy. More than you’ll ever know. See you soon. I’ll be the one dressed in white._

_Forever yours,_

_Clarke Griffin_

Bellamy reread her letter over and over, hating that he couldn’t just run down the hallway and kiss her senseless for it. With each passing moment, he was closer to getting to see her, but time wasn’t moving fast enough. The tears from earlier started seeping back into his eyes, and he was beginning to doubt he could get through the ceremony without crying from happiness.

When the door creaked open, Bellamy wiped his tears away with his palm. “Bad time?” Kane asked, and Bellamy just shook his head.

“Just rereading a letter Clarke wrote me. What’s up?” Kane’s jaw clicked as his eyes drifted around the room. After a beat, he turned to lock the door.

“I need to talk to you,” he whispered as he walked toward Bellamy. “But this conversation doesn’t leave this room, understood?”

“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” Whatever it was, Bellamy wasn’t in the mood for it. After the miserable week he and Clarke had endured, he just wanted this one day for them. They could go back to planning and panicking tomorrow, but today, they were going to be happy.

“No,” Kane sighed. He sat beside Bellamy, keeping his eyes fixed on the door. “You know, don’t you?”

Bellamy’s stomach clenched at the question. Clarke was right. Their protests last night gave them away. “Know what?”

“You know what happened. And so does Clarke, right?” Bellamy opened his mouth to object, but Kane held up his hand. “No, don’t answer that.” His leg was bouncing up and down, and for the first time since Kane first showed up at his office, he seemed nervous. “If you know, why are you going through with this wedding?”

“I love her,” Bellamy whispered. “You must think—”

“No, I understand. I had someone like that once. Would have done anything for her, even when it brought me nothing but misery…” Kane leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “Anyway, you need to be careful.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know,” he snapped. “No one can know that you found out. Not even the people you trust.”

“I trust you and I trust Clarke. That’s it. So unless you’re about to—”

“I’m just warning you. Richard didn’t find out Jake was going to talk all on his own. Someone told him.” That much they had already figured out. It was easier to assume it was Jaha and not Abby. That betrayal might be too much for Clarke to handle. “I’m not going to let the same thing happen to you, I swear.”

Kane pushed himself to his feet, this conversation apparently over. But Bellamy still had a question for him. “You knew this whole time, huh?” Kane froze. “Why didn’t you tell Clarke?”

“It was for her own good that she didn’t know.”

“That’s not what Wells thought.” Kane’s head snapped in Bellamy’s direction, his eyes wide and confused. “As soon as he found out, he was going to tell her everything.”

 Before Kane could ask him to explain, someone knocked at the door. “Bellamy, it’s Abby!” Kane let out an annoyed groan. “Can I come in?” The doorknob rattled as she tried to come in. With a sigh, Bellamy pushed himself up and unlocked the door.

“Is everything alright, Mrs. Griffin?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“No, you need to go talk to Clarke,” Abby snapped. She was already fully dressed in her long purple gown. Her brows knotted in frustration, the same way Clarke’s would when she wanted to yell at someone.

“Is she alright?” Bellamy asked, his eyes wide as he looked back at Kane. With all the ups and downs this week, he couldn’t imagine how anxious and worried Clarke was today.

“She’s fine. She just won’t talk to me,” Abby huffed. “It’s my daughter’s wedding, and she won’t even let me help her get ready. She kicked Dad out too when he came in!”

Bellamy was about to spit out some nonsense about how Clarke was just stressed and needed some space, but Kane opened his mouth first and said, “Can you blame her?”

Abby’s eyes snapped to Kane, her eyes narrowing murderously. “Listen, Marcus—”

“Okay, we are not doing this today,” Bellamy snapped, stepping between them. “Kane, your job is to help me, and stirring up a fight is the opposite of that.” His eyes widened at Bellamy, as if surprised by his tone. “Mrs. Griffin, I am not about to mediate between you and your daughter.” Both of them opened their mouths to protest, but before they could say anything, Bellamy huffed, “Today is not about you!”

“Bellamy, I didn’t mean—” Kane tried to say, but Bellamy had already brushed past them on the way to the door.

“I’m gonna to go check on the bride,” he muttered, shaking his head. Out in the hallway, his groomsmen were starting to roll in. Bellamy pointed them in the direction of their dressing room but stayed on course towards Clarke.

When he knocked on the door, one of her bridesmaids opened it. Her eyes widened in a panic, and she slammed the door in his face. “You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding!” she shouted through the door.

“Did you just slam the door on Bellamy?” he heard Clarke giggle.

“Tell the bride I want to talk to her. I’ll keep my eyes shut or walk in backwards if she wants,” he snorted, and Clarke erupted into laughter. There was some muffled whispering, and finally, a handful of bridesmaids stepped out of the room and told him to walk in backwards.

It was hard not to laugh as he did, especially since he could hear Clarke’s giggle grow louder with each backwards step. “You gonna tell me when to stop?”

“Just a few more,” she chuckled. Then, he felt her hand on his back, and he stopped moving. “You know, we did agree that you wouldn’t come in here before the ceremony.”

“You really believe in that superstition?” he snorted.

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, so if following a silly superstition might help me keep you, I’m gonna do it.” A smile formed on his lips, and he had to fight every urge he had not to turn around and kiss her. He just kept his eyes focused on the door in front of him. “You get my letter?”

“I did,” he grinned. “Baby, I love you so much.” Clarke’s hands slid under his arms, wrapping around his waist. He grabbed one of her hands and pressed a kiss to her palm.

“I love you too,” she whispered into his back. “So, what was so important that you couldn’t wait to see me until the ceremony?”

“Well, your mom just told me to come talk to you.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“And I told her that today isn’t about her.”

“You did not,” Clarke chuckled.

“I absolutely did. And to Kane too.” Bellamy bit down on his lip, remembering the other reason he needed to talk to Clarke. “Also, Kane knows.”

“God, I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about Grandpa walking me down the aisle,” she muttered, burying her face between his shoulder blades. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. He’s not… we’re okay. Kane is on our side.”

“I know, I just… we can’t afford to fuck up like that again. If it had been with anyone else—”

“It wasn’t.” He kissed her hand again, and she sighed into his shirt.

The two of them stood there for a few minutes, Clarke’s arms still wrapped around his waist. He could feel her breathing against his back, like she sometimes did when he slept on his side and she curled against his back.

“How was last night?” Clarke asked.

“Fine. Octavia has been… great, actually,” he sighed. “She made me breakfast this morning, even got me a wedding present.”

“That’s good.” Her voice went up at the end of the sentence, and he knew she was holding back saying what she was really thinking. Clarke had been on her guard ever since Octavia showed up at their apartment, not quite saying anything, but the concern never left her eyes.

“It’s weird,” he admitted. “I keep going back and forth between waiting for her to snap and thinking that she’s finally changed. And I have no idea which it is.”

“Has she ever been like this before?”

“Yeah. I mean, is it bad that I just want to enjoy it? She’s gonna go home soon, and who knows when I’ll see her next.” He had missed her. Or, this version of her. This was the sister he remembered from his childhood. And it had been so long since he’d seen this side of her that he had forgotten how much he missed her.

“No, it’s not bad. You love her,” Clarke whispered. “I just…”

“I know.” He let his eyes fall shut as Clarke kissed the back of his neck. “It’s not fair that you can kiss me but I can’t kiss you.”

“Do you want to kiss me?” she teased.

“What kind of stupid question is that?” he snorted, and Clarke started giggling.

“Okay, cover your eyes.”

“My back is already to you, Clarke. I can’t see you,” he huffed.

“If you cover your eyes, I can turn you around and let you kiss me.”

“Fine,” he chuckled and put his hand over his eyes.

“No peeking,” Clarke warned as she turned him around, and his smile grew. Clarke put her hand over his.

“You don’t trust me not to peek?” he huffed in mock outrage.

“Not even a little,” Clarke giggled. Her other hand rested on his chest and he could feel her lips hover over his. “Okay, you can kiss me now.”

He leaned his head just a bit more toward her, and his lips finally landed on hers. Clarke sighed contentedly into his mouth, her lips warm and sweet against him. He rested his other hand on her waist, feeling the satin robe beneath his fingertips. The next time he would touch her like this, she’d be his wife.

“Am I really marrying you today?”

“You better be,” Clarke teased.

He let his forehead fall against hers, his lips forming a small smile. There was a part of him that didn’t think he would get this. He never thought he’d have someone like Clarke, or have the kind of love they share.

“How much longer?”

“Two hours.”

“I don’t think I can wait two hours to be married to you.”

“Well, you have to. My hair hasn’t been done yet,” Clarke giggled.

“That won’t take two hours.”

“It might.” Bellamy broke into a laugh. “It’s just two more hours. You can wait that long.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been waiting to marry you since I met you.” Clarke’s lips landed on his cheek, and he could feel her soft smile against his skin.

“Really?” she whispered.

“Really. It nearly broke my heart to walk out of that diner. I didn’t like the idea of saying goodbye to you.”

“And now, you’ll never have to.” His lips broke out into a huge grin, and Clarke leaned up to kiss him again. She let go of his hand to grab hold of his face, but he didn’t dare peek. “I love you, Bell.”

“I love you too,” he whispered. “More than anything.”


	19. Should Have Been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding chapter part two! Sorry it took so long, but you know, life. Honestly, I'm just amazed I got it done this week. But miracles happen when you put off prepping for your interview tomorrow to write fanfic. Oof.

With each bridesmaid walking down the aisle, Bellamy’s fidgeting got worse. He only noticed it when he caught Octavia’s eye and she shot him a teasing smirk. Thank God everyone was too focused on the bridesmaids to notice that he was an anxious mess.

He distracted himself by looking out at the guests, most of whom he had never met before. Clarke had made him flash cards for the important ones, just the big donors and influential family friends. There were many familiar faces out there, though not all of them friendly. Both Diyoza and McCreary had scowls on their faces, no doubt pissed that he and Clarke thought it would be funny to seat them beside each other for both the ceremony and the reception. The Wallace’s sat just behind Clarke’s grandfather, Cage looking bored and Dante keeping a forced smile on his face. Kane sat next to Octavia so she wouldn’t be alone on the groom’s side, though Kane really wasn’t paying attention to the ceremony. His eyes kept darting around the room, looking like his mind was working a mile a minute.

There was a pause before the doors opened for Clarke. It probably wasn’t a long pause, but it felt like an eternity to Bellamy. The guests all shuffled to their feet, muffling the sound of Bellamy sucking in an excited breath.

His eyes locked with Clarke’s as soon as the door opened, and he felt his entire body relax. This was really happening. They were getting married today.

Her dress was a huge, ornate ballgown that took up most of the aisle. It was the dress that Abby Griffin had picked out and Clarke begrudgingly fell in love with as soon as she put it on. The beading was intricate, trailing all the way up to the sheer sleeves. Bellamy could barely make out her face through the veil, though her excited smile and bright, blue eyes shined through.

She was quite honestly the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

Jaha took too long getting her down the aisle. Or maybe the aisle was just too long. If Bellamy had it his way, Clarke would have run to him so they could get the part where they were married already.

He held his breath as Clarke turned so Jaha could lift her veil. “I wish your father could have been here for this,” Jaha whispered, and Clarke’s jaw clenched.

“He should have been,” she snapped, her eyes turning murderous for a brief second before blinking the anger away. Bellamy’s eyes darted to Jaha, whose eyes gave him away. The president knew exactly what Clarke was referring to.

Before Jaha could stutter anything out, the preacher asked who was giving Clarke away, forcing him to plaster on a neutral expression as he set Clarke’s hand in Bellamy’s. But the panic in his eyes remained even as he made his way down the steps back toward his seat.

Bellamy strummed his fingers against her palm as the two of them took a step forward. Her eyes flickered over to his for a brief second, silently reassuring him that she’s alright, before fixing her gaze back on the preacher.

He tried to pay attention, he really did. But anything that was said went in one ear and out the other, and all he could focus on was the feeling of Clarke’s soft hand in his. It seemed like just yesterday this hand first touched him, pulling him back to the booth before he walked out of that diner… and now, he was really marrying her. When he met Clarke’s eyes, he could feel his eyes threaten tears. She squeezed his hand, and the guests began laughing at some joke the preacher said.

“I love you,” he mouthed right as the preacher asked for the rings.

Her cheeks turned pink and her eyes dropped to their hands for a brief moment. “I love you too,” she mouthed back.

“Clarke,” Bellamy said as he positioned the ring in front of her finger. “I knew I wanted to marry you since the day we first met.  You are unlike anyone I’ve ever known before. Brilliant, kind, driven, strong, and beautiful. I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, but I promise to love and cherish you. To lend you strength when you need it, though we both know you’re strong enough for the both of us.” A smile took over her face and she ducked her head. “I will do whatever I have to in order to make you smile like that… because there is nothing I want more than to see you this happy every day, for the rest of our lives.” The ring slid onto her finger with ease, and when he finally looked back up at her, he felt his entire body begin to relax.

“Bellamy,” Clarke said with a soft smile. “You… you are everything to me. My best friend. My confidant. The person who brought me back to myself.” Her fingers fumbled a bit with the ring, earning a nervous laugh from both of them. “I love you, more than any vow could ever express. But I do promise to be your best friend, your confidant, someone to bring you back if you ever lose your way. I will love and cherish you every day, through the good and the bad, for the rest of our lives.”

He just stared at her, fighting every urge he had to kiss her senseless right this second. He waited, keeping his eyes locked with hers, for the words he had been aching to hear since he left Clarke’s dressing room just two hours ago. He squeezed her hands tight, his heart pounding as he felt her squeeze back.

“You may now kiss the bride.” Bellamy already had his hands on either side of her face, pulling her in for a kiss, before the preacher even finished the sentence.

A surprised squeak escaped Clarke’s lips as he slammed his lips into hers, but it only took a second for her to melt into him and wrap her arms around his neck. _Finally_.

 

* * *

 

He couldn’t stop looking at her. Her smile was bright and warm, her eyes constantly flickering back to meet his and making something in his chest flip.

The photographer had to say Clarke’s name three times to snap her back into focus, and he couldn’t help but chuckle when her cheeks turned pink. The bridesmaids were gathered on either side of her, smiling for the camera.

“We’re doing the family photos next. Where is your sister?” Richard asked.

“In the bathroom with Abby. They’ll come back out in a minute.” Bellamy tried to keep his tone light, but there was a bite in his voice, one he couldn’t hold back when it came to this man. “Thank you again for flying Octavia out here.”

“Well, she is family.” Bellamy let himself turn to look at him, but Clarke’s grandfather just kept his eyes on Clarke and the bridesmaids. “It’s important that we keep the people we care about close in times like this, don’t you think?” Bellamy stepped away from him, spotting Kane across the green. “Bellamy,” he said, the growl in his voice enough to make Bellamy freeze.

“Do you need something, Mr. Walters?” he asked through gritted teeth.

His jaw clicked, but he still didn’t turn his gaze to Bellamy. “I feel like you see me all wrong. You and I are not all that different.” A few reporters were out on the porch, watching and videoing everything. Bellamy kept a pleasant smile plastered on his face despite being desperate to talk to literally anyone else. “We both have people we love who tend to get into trouble when we aren’t paying attention.”

He fought not to roll his eyes. Of course, Richard was using Octavia’s record to get a rise out of him. “The charges have been dealt with. But thank you for your concern.”

“Oh, I know. Marcus does do a thorough job of burying secrets, I’ll give him that. Though your sister’s latest trouble may give him a challenge.”

Richard took two strides forward before Bellamy stopped him. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing you need to worry about today,” he grinned, and Bellamy felt like he could throw up. He knew something was off about Octavia, which meant it was only a matter of time before it all blew up in his face. “You have good people looking out for you.”

“What do you know?”

“We’ll talk about it another day. Wouldn’t want to say or do anything to ruin your wedding.” When he tried to step away, Bellamy grabbed hold of his arm. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I realized you would get this upset. You should really learn to watch your temper.”

“Richard.”

He cocked his head to the side, the dark grin still stretching across his face. “Well, if you insist…” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Octavia and Abby stepping back outside, both laughing. “There might be another explanation, but one of my guys found a very interesting purchase from two weeks ago.”

“You’re spying on my little sister?” he growled.

“I’m looking out for her. Just like I look out for you and Clarke.” A shiver passed through him at the thought. Deep down, he always knew that Richard Walters was monitoring everything they did. But with everything he and Clarke learned about Wells and Jake, the fact that Walters was spying on them grew that much more terrifying. Clarke wasn’t exaggerating when she said all it would take is one misstep for her grandfather to figure out that they knew. But it was something else to learn the man goes so far as to monitor his little sister. “I guess I was hoping that Octavia would have spoken with you about it by now, so you can start strategizing.”

“Spit it out.”

“Two weeks ago, your sister purchased a pregnancy test from CVS. The following day, she made a doctor’s appointment.” Bellamy’s eyes flickered in Octavia’s direction. He knew there was something off about her not drinking… he just felt stupid he didn’t figure it out sooner. “It might be nothing.”

“With her, it’s never nothing.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I’ve been keeping an eye on her.” A shiver went up his spine, but Bellamy didn’t dare make eye contact with him. Richard wouldn’t tell him all this today just to mess with him, certainly not when Clarke was two seconds away from throwing him out of the wedding and Abby wouldn’t even sit next to him at the ceremony.

No, this was a threat. A reminder of his reach and resources. The terrifying fact that he can find anything or anyone. And if he can find something, he can also exploit or destroy it.

“Bellamy!” Clarke called out, and he nearly sprinted to her in his haste to get away from that man. “Can we do the family pictures in a little bit? I think we should do a few more of just me and Bellamy,” she told the photographer, who got to work shooing everyone else from the shot. Bellamy’s eyes must have betrayed his panic because Clarke was peering up at him with a worried look in her eyes. “Hey, what’s going on?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” he choked out.

“Bell.”

“I think Octavia’s pregnant.”

“You’re kidding.”

“That’s what your grandfather just told me.” Before Clarke could say anything in response, they were ushered toward a bench.

“Don’t do anything rash,” Clarke whispered, forcing a smile for the camera. Bellamy pulled her hands into his, trying his best to follow the photographer’s pose instructions. “He only told you now because he wants you to blow up.”

“It was a threat, Clarke.” She didn’t manage to reply before the photographer came over to get them into the next pose. His mind turned off as they went through each photo, only able to focus on the photographer’s orders and Clarke holding his hand.

He didn’t get another word in to Clarke before the family photos started. Octavia leaned into his side, grinning up at him.

“I still can’t believe my big brother got married.” He forced a smile at her before turning his attention back to the camera. “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just tired,” he lied, keeping his eyes fixed on the photographer. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Clarke whispering something to her mom, which was the most Clarke had spoken to her all day.

Bellamy kept the smile plastered on his lips and his arm tight around Clarke, ignoring the way his heart threatened to pound itself out of its chest.

 

* * *

 

It was near impossible not to step on Clarke’s dress as they danced. Most of their first dance was him apologizing and Clarke laughing at him. “Great start to our marriage right here,” he snorted, and Clarke’s laugh grew louder. Bellamy spun her around, managing not to step on the fabric this time when he pulled her back in. “Okay, I might be getting the hang of this,” he said right before setting his foot right on the dress. “Fuck.”

“Good thing I’m not marrying you for your dancing skills,” she teased.

“But I’m actually a good dancer,” he huffed. “This is like trying to dance in an obstacle course.”

“But isn’t the dress pretty?” she giggled, and he rested his forehead against hers.

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and her smile grew.

“You’re not too bad yourself.”

He kept his eyes fixed on hers as they finished their first dance. It was the only way he could distract himself from the flashing cameras and the crowd of politicians watching their every move. Bellamy was determined that today would just be about him and Clarke… but between Clarke’s fight with her family and Richard threatening Bellamy’s, it was hard to stay completely in the moment.

The toasts came after their dance, and Bellamy fought to keep a straight face during Jaha’s. Miller’s was easier to listen to. Almost funny, even. For a moment, he forgot about everything that had happened in the past week.

But that moment didn’t last. Clarke got pulled out onto the dance floor to dance with Jaha, which lead to swarms of cameras capturing every movement. The two of them looked pleasant enough for the cameras, but Bellamy didn’t miss that Clarke didn’t speak a single word to him during the dance.

If Clarke was struggling the same way Bellamy was, she didn’t show it. No, she was perfectly poised and sweet as the two of them met and spoke with each and every guest, holding conversation effortlessly. It felt more like a campaign fundraiser than wedding reception with how many donors wanted to talk policy with him.

Cage Wallace insisted on having a dance with Clarke, so Bellamy snuck outside where Miller, Jackson, and Octavia were sitting on a bench. “Where’s the wife?” Miller called out.

“Dancing with Cage.” Bellamy tucked his hands into his pockets as he looked over at Octavia. She had a glass of water in hand, which reminded him that he had to talk to her.

“Can you believe that your sister-in-law is dancing with the Vice President’s son?” Jackson slurred, and Miller snatched the beer out of his hands.

“Right?” Octavia chuckled. “Like last time I saw him, he couldn’t even get that bartender’s number after months of trying, and now he’s married to Clarke Griffin.”

“Our boy married up,” Miller teased, and Bellamy swiped the beer from his hand and took a big gulp.

“Wish I could tell you how I did it, but I have no idea.”

“Must be those gorgeous Blake genes,” Octavia said. “Or she’s always dreamt of marrying a nerd who dressed up as Atlas three Halloweens in a row.”

“Obviously, it’s the latter,” he deadpanned. A guest came outside, letting the loud music filter out into the courtyard.

“Alright, you’re dancing with me again,” Jackson said, only swaying a little as he jumped to his feet.

“I think we’ve danced enough,” Miller said.

“That is a ballroom full of homophobic Republicans. It is our ethical duty to force them to witness our love out on the dance floor.”

Bellamy plopped down next to Octavia on the bench as Jackson dragged Miller to his feet. “He’s got a point. If a photographer gets a picture of Dante Wallace forcing a smile while you two dance, I’ll owe each of you a drink,” Bellamy joked.

“Okay, fine,” Miller groaned as Jackson dragged him by the hand.

With them gone, it was too quiet outside. His chest grew tighter with each passing second that he tried to think of how to talk to Octavia about what he learned.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” she told him.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“That question feels like a trap,” she huffed.

“It’s not a trap. I just want you to know that you can talk to me.” She looked over at him, brows furrowed, before pushing off her seat.

“We should go back in.”

“O, sit back down,” he snapped. She didn’t, of course. Instead opting to cross her arms and glare at him. “You and I have barely spoken in the past few years. I just want to know more about your life now.”

“I tried calling you—”

“In just the past few weeks. Before then, it was radio silence.”

For just a moment, it looked like there was guilt behind her eyes. But then, her jaw clenched and her body stiffened, and Bellamy felt dread built up in his chest. He shouldn’t have done this today. “Why are you throwing this in my face right now? I thought we were having a good visit.”

“O—”

“Have you just been waiting for the right moment to make me feel like shit?” Her voice was just a bit too loud, and Bellamy found himself jumping from his seat and dragging her by the hand around the corner. She smacked his hand away as soon as they were out of sight, her eyes wide and dark. “I came all this way to be here for your wedding, and you—"

“Great, you show up once after all these years,” he snapped before thinking better of it.

Octavia didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who has been abandoned, Bell.”

“I left to pay for Mom’s treatments. You left because you wanted to hurt me.” Bellamy caught her hand before Octavia could slap him. He kept his grip firm around her wrist, and he had to fight not to scream at her just feet away from his reception. “Don’t try that again. You can’t afford your third strike, O.”

“What are—”

“I know about your record. And I know that you’re pregnant,” he told her, and her eyes went wide. “I’ve minded my own business all these years. Given you the space you needed. But now I’m in the Senate and there are people looking for any dirt on me and my family they can find, so I have to keep up with the trouble you’re getting yourself into. And I’ve tried to help. Clarke and Kane took care of your record. And I want to help you now, but I’m done being your punching bag, O. I’m not the reason your life is so miserable. You are.”

He let go of her wrist and pushed past her. “Bell!” she called out, and he could hear the tremor in her voice. But he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. If Bellamy turned around right now and saw whatever heartbroken expression was on her face, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell her that everything is okay and pull her into a hug. He’d forgive her, despite everything. And Bellamy just couldn’t do that again. Because she hadn’t changed.

But he did. So, he kept walking.

 

* * *

 

All Clarke had to do was look at him to know that it was time to leave. He tried his best to keep his face pleasant, but he knew the smile didn’t travel up to his eyes. Bellamy was relieved when Kane arranged for the send off to start early, even more relieved when the limo door shut behind him and Clarke.

“What happened?” she asked as the driver pulled out.

“My sister tried to slap me.” He slammed his head back into the seat, hating himself for getting so worked up over it. It’s not like that had never happened before. Usually, it was far worse.

“She what?”

“We got into a fight, I pissed her off, and she tried to slap me. The usual.”

Clarke slid closer to him in the seat, her hand resting on his knee. “Are you okay?”

“She didn’t actually slap me, Clarke,” he muttered.

“Are you okay?” she repeated, and he finally turned his head to look at her. Clarke’s usually bright eyes were full of concern as she peered up at him.

“No,” he admitted, reaching down to grab her hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to talk to her today.”

“It’s okay, Bell.”

“It’s not, though,” he groaned. “Today was supposed to be about us. Not your grandfather playing mind games or Kane confronting me or my sister hating me because it’s easier than hating herself.” Clarke slid her hand up to his cheek, and he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the touch. “I just wanted today to be perfect.”

“It was never going to be perfect. The odds were against us from the beginning,” she teased. “We’re in DC, after all. There was bound to be drama.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I know,” she whispered before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “But all the moments that mattered were perfect.” A smirk formed on his lips as he opened his eyes. “There’s my Bellamy.” She was smiling up at him, her eyes as soft as they were during the ceremony when she would look at him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He lifted her hand from his cheek and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Would you mind if we took a little detour?”

“We have a plane to catch.”

“We’re flying private. The plane leaves when we leave,” Clarke smirked, and before he could agree, she was stumbling over her dress to get by the partition. Whatever she whispered to the driver caused him to make a sharp left turn, and Clarke lost her balance.

“Baby, get back over here,” he chuckled, and Clarke hiked up her dress as she moved toward the back. He wrapped his arms around her once she was seated, rolling his eyes. “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I think I’ve had enough surprises for one week,” he snorted.

Clarke looked up at him with a mock pout. “Humor your wife, please.” And that word put an automatic smile on his lips.

“Say that word again.”

“Please.”

“The other one.”

“Humor.”

“Damnit, Clarke,” he huffed, and she buried her face into his jacket as she giggled.

“Wife?” And he couldn’t even pretend to be mad about her teasing. Not when she said such a beautiful, perfect word. “You like it when I call myself your wife, huh?”

“I really, really do,” he grinned before kissing the top of her head. He held her like that for the rest of the drive, almost forgetting that Clarke was up to something. But then, the limo came to a stop, and Clarke’s excited grin grew. “Seriously, where are we?”

Clarke just grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the door. It took about as much work getting Clarke’s massive dress out of the limo as it did getting in, but between Bellamy and the driver, they managed it. Once Clarke was outside, Bellamy finally saw where she took him.

“Grounders?” he chuckled, but Clarke just dragged him by the hand toward the diner. The place didn’t look any different. One of the lights was out, but he wasn’t so sure it had been working a year ago when he first met Clarke here. “Did you just suddenly get a craving for apple pie?”

“Nope, but now that you mention it, it does sound good,” she grinned as she tugged him through the front door. There were a handful of people in the diner, none of which bothered to look up as Clarke dragged Bellamy to the back. “Our table isn’t taken.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the way her dress poofed up as she slid into the booth. “Need some help there?” he teased, and her nose scrunched up. He plopped down across from her, his smile growing bigger each time Clarke tried to push her dress down. Eventually, she gave up and picked up a menu. “Wanna tell me why we’re postponing our honeymoon for diner food?”

“It’s like you said. Today is supposed to be about us. Not photo ops, talking policy with donors, or our families starting drama.” She reached across the table to grab his hand. He turned it over so her palm rested over his. “So, why not spend what’s left of today where we began falling in love?”

His chest throbbed as he stared at her, wondering how it was possible to love someone as much as he loves her. He’d go through thousands of days like today if it meant that he could always end them like this… with her.

The two of them fell into silence. Clarke’s fingers traced the lines of his palm, and Bellamy just stared at the beautiful woman who turned his entire life upside down. His wife. His perfect, thoughtful, brilliant wife who stole his heart right here in this booth a year ago.  


	20. Shoot Myself in the Foot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> au where senators actually try to compromise by working across the aisle sometimes.

The flight back to DC took longer than expected, but traffic to the apartment wasn’t as bad, so Bellamy was still on track to make it on time for the vote. God, he could kill McCreary for pushing up the nominee vote during Bellamy’s honeymoon.

Byrne was actually a good nominee. A moderate conservative with no skeletons in her closet. Jaha nominated her in an attempt to win back the moderates of his party before November, which would have been a perfect plan if the idiots in the Senate hadn’t decided to screw with it.

“Apparently, Roan is still undecided on how he’s going to vote,” Clarke sighed over the phone.

“Can’t you call him and work your Griffin magic to make him vote yes?” Bellamy huffed as he dug into his pocket looking for his keys.

“His state will burn him alive if he votes for a nominee who thinks Roe v. Wade is settled law. He already is on thin ice because of how he voted in the Sydney hearings.” Bellamy rested his head against the door, quietly groaning. None of them would be in this mess if Pike hadn’t brought this issue up in committee. They knew where Judge Byrne stood. They really didn’t need her declaring on the record that she wouldn’t overturn Roe v. Wade. But Pike is auditioning to be Sinclair’s running mate, and this put him right back in the spotlight.

“You mean to tell me that I left you behind in Hawaii on the off chance that my vote will even make a difference?”

“No, you temporarily left our honeymoon because your duty is to serve the people of the United States of America,” Clarke corrected.

“Clarke—”

“And if a reporter asks, you tell them that your wife encouraged you return to DC because protecting a woman’s right to choose is a fundamental—”

“Baby, you’re sounding very Marcus Kane right now. I’m gonna say all that, I promise. We’ve rehearsed it enough,” he chuckled as he swung open the door. When he stepped into his apartment, the lights were on. Octavia must have left them on when she left for the airport last week. Typical. “Alright, I’m in the apartment.”

“Okay, you want the light gray suit and one of your darker ties,” she told him as he marched toward their bedroom.

“Shouldn’t I go for something lighter, like a pastel? It makes me more sympathetic, right?” He put her on speaker and threw the phone onto their bed as he began getting dressed.

“You don’t need to be more sympathetic because you’re on the right side of the narrative. The Democrats are making great strides to work with the Jaha administration by pushing through his nominee. It’s the Republicans in the Senate who refuse to be satisfied with an accomplished conservative judge with—”

“Okay, okay. I rehearsed that speech the whole flight home. I got it. How about the navy?”

“Ooh, I love you in the navy.”

“Navy it is.”

Clarke kept going over his talking points while he finished getting dressed. They were probably over planning. If Roan voted the way Clarke thought he would, then no reporter would want to spend too much time on Bellamy. He didn’t come all this way to earn brownie points with the media, anyway. He came because the Democrats would come after him if he was the reason Byrne didn’t get through… and because this might be their last chance to fill this seat with a sane nominee for years.

Bellamy took her off speakerphone as he left his room and nearly dropped the phone when he saw Octavia stepping out of the bathroom, rubbing her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” they both asked simultaneously.

“I thought you flew back home,” Bellamy snapped.

“Well, it’s not—”

“What is going on?” Clarke asked.

“Octavia’s still at our apartment,” he whispered. “I’ve gotta call you back.”

“Wait, what?” Bellamy hung up the phone and just stared at Octavia.

“Seriously, why are you here?” Octavia opened her mouth to speak, her brows furrowed like she was trying to come up with a convincing lie. “Fuck, I don’t have time for this. I have to vote on a nominee.” Bellamy began marching toward the door.

“Wait, Bell,” she called out. “I need to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t have time right now, O,” he snapped, whipping his head around to glare at her. He’d almost feel bad for snapping at her when she had that kicked puppy look in her eyes, but then he remembered this was the girl who tried to slap him at his own wedding. “I had to leave my honeymoon and fly through the night so I can vote on the only sane choice for a Supreme Court justice that Jaha has ever offered up. And I have less than an hour to get in there and vote because McCreary gets off on fucking up my life. So, you stay right here and I’ll talk to you when it’s done.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond before darting out the door.

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t seen chaos like this since the last time they voted on a Supreme Court nominee. Staffers were running through the halls, cellphones were constantly ringing, and Bellamy was stopped every two seconds. It was even more chaotic inside his own office.

Kane threw papers at him, throwing all the talking points onto Bellamy at once. Murphy and Monty were arguing about which media to reach out to first, and Raven kept calling out Bellamy’s name.

“I’m a little busy,” he grumbled as he skimmed over the papers.

“It’s really important,” Raven huffed as Kane took a phone call.

“Is it about Byrne?”

“No.”

“Then, it can wait,” he muttered before dropping the papers on Maya’s desk. “Also, did any of you know that Octavia was still in town and staying in my apartment?”

“No, but—” Bellamy stepped out of the office before Raven could finish her sentence.

Out in the hallway, he spotted Roan surrounded by his staffers. Bellamy jogged to catch up, and Roan looked relieved to see him. Once he dismissed his people, Bellamy asked, “So, how are you voting?”

“I’m voting to shoot myself in the foot,” he chuckled with a dark grin on his lips.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I think when I’m voted out of office, I’ll pursue carpentry.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Completely serious. Fuck Washington. I’m done,” he muttered, shaking his head. As the two of them strode into the Senate, Bellamy caught McCreary’s almost amused glare. “These fucking idiots. They have a chance to get a conservative judge on the court for life, and they’re throwing it away because Byrne isn’t crazy Republican enough. How does anything get done here?”

“It doesn’t,” Bellamy snorted before breaking away to take his seat.

He rolled his eyes as each Republican voted against Byrne. This was probably their last chance to fill this seat for a long time. After this next election, Jaha wouldn’t be able to get a nominee through since the Republicans are likely to lose the Senate majority. This whole stunt feels like a loud revolt against the president from the far right. None of them were looking at the bigger picture. After all, Jaha was all they had right now. If they kept turning against him, they’d hand Sinclair to presidency… which was the last thing they wanted, even if Jaha wasn’t exactly who they hoped he’d be.

The voting went about as he expected. Diyoza and Roan both voted for Byrne, but the rest of the Republicans voted against proudly. Bellamy kept glancing at his watch, counting down how many hours it would take to get on a plane and get back to Clarke.

His mind was so lost in daydreaming about beaches and Clarke and drinking something with an umbrella in it that he almost missed when a freshman Democrat voted against Byrne. Bellamy’s eyes darted over to Pike, catching the murderous look in his eyes as he glared at Senator Cooper. She was sworn in with Bellamy, a fiercely progressive senator from Oregon. He could already hear her angry rant to the media after this, chastising her fellow Democrats for giving up their progressive values to kowtow to the president. Based on Pike’s face, he had no idea that she was going to break from party lines like this. And now, the Senate was looking at a tie… which meant Bellamy had to wait around on the Vice President to get here to break it.

Vice President Wallace should have been on standby given how close this vote would be, but of course, he happened to be meeting with an ambassador from France at the exact moment the Senate needed him.

Bellamy’s only consolation was that McCreary couldn’t be happy either. Wallace was a wild card for this nomination. He hadn’t made a single statement on Byrne, for or against. Bellamy’s gut told him that Wallace would vote against, seeing as his past campaigns put his pro-life stance at the forefront. It’d be how Richard Walters would tell him to vote… if it didn’t mean actively contradicting the president. A loyal vice president would stand by Jaha, but Bellamy never could tell how loyal Wallace was to Jaha. He had a feeling that Wallace would throw Jaha to the wolves for the chance to take his job.

“Fuck, Marry, Kill: Pike, Cooper, and Tsing,” Roan whispered, but it wasn’t like anyone was paying attention to them. Everyone was fixated on making their own statements or blaming the members of their prospective parties that didn’t tow the party line.

“Can I kill Pike and Cooper?”

“Nope.”

“Kill Cooper. Fuck Pike since he loves fucking me over already. Marry Tsing,” Bellamy sighed. “Fuck, Marry, Kill: McCreary, Diyoza, and Wallace.”

“Marry Diyoza. Fuck Wallace because maybe a good dick sucking will make him change his stance on gay marriage. Kill McCreary, probably with a knife right on the Senate floor.”

“A little too Ides of March, but okay,” he snorted. “We could make a Senate version of Clue. Who killed Senator McCreary? Senator Kingsley with the knife on the Senate floor.”

“Senator Pike with the revolver in McCreary’s secret office.”

“Me with the rope on the Capitol steps.”

“Your wife with those heels of hers in your office.”

Bellamy erupted into laughter. “Okay, that one wins.”

Before Roan could say anything else, Vice President Wallace stormed onto the Senate Floor and the entire room went silent. Everyone’s eyes were glued to him as he whispered back and forth with McCreary, and a small smile formed on Bellamy’s lips when McCreary’s lips formed a scowl.

“Guess the VP is standing by his man,” Roan snorted.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t get a chance to debrief with anyone because just five minutes after he escaped back into his office, Dante Wallace showed up.

“Mr. Vice President,” Bellamy said with a smile as Murphy and Monty scrambled to their feet.

“Senator Blake. It’s good to see you. Though, I understand you had to leave your honeymoon to vote for Byrne.” He didn’t even spare a glance at Kane as he walked toward Bellamy’s private office. If Kane was pissed about being blown off, he didn’t show it. He took the others to the side, giving the appearance of being hard at work and therefore too busy to notice being snubbed by the Vice President.

“Well, as soon as I’m done here, I’ll be back on a plane to resume it. And Clarke gets how it is.” He shut the door behind Wallace before striding toward his seat. “So, what can I do for you today, Mr. Vice President?”

“Please, call me Dante when it’s just us,” he replied with an easy grin. “I actually wanted to ask if you and Clarke would be willing to do some campaigning with me and Thelonious when you got back. We asked Marcus, but he sort of gave us the run around.”

Bellamy forced a pleasant smile on his face, praying he didn’t give anything away. Before they found out about Jake and Wells, the two of them were planning on being dragged out in front of the cameras with Jaha through November. It was an easy plan. Bellamy would get more spotlight and Jaha would gain support from moderates. But now, Clarke couldn’t be in the same room as someone who assisted in her father’s murder, so he had a hard time imaging she would agree to campaign for him.

But then again, if she doesn’t, her grandfather would know something is up. They were screwed either way, it seemed.

“I need to talk to Clarke about it. It’s actually something we’ve been meaning to talk about for a while, but with the wedding and the Byrne vote, things have been too hectic for us to really discuss how available we will be for campaigning.” All he’s doing is stalling, and Wallace seems to see right through it.

“Of course. And this will be your first election cycle while here in Washington, so obviously we won’t be asking for too much of your time. I know how overwhelming this all can get,” he replied, still smiling. “There are a few key visits we would like you two for, and we can work around your schedule if need be.”

“I will pass that on to Clarke when we discuss it.”

Wallace’s fingers fluttered on the arm rests before pushing himself up. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I know you’re eager to get back to your wife. I must say, you two had a lovely wedding.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he fought the urge to check it until Wallace walked out of his office.

It was a text from Clarke, and the image she sent him made heat rise to his cheeks. Her hand was inside this lacy little thong, at least two fingers inside her cunt. _You better be on your way back now or I’m finishing without you_ , she said.

Bellamy fell back into his chair, biting down on his fist as he stared at the image. A knock on his door forced him to lock his phone, and Kane came barging in. “While you’re here, you might as well—”

“No. Whatever it is, no,” he huffed, pushing himself up from his seat. “I’m done being a senator for the day. I gotta swing by the apartment to deal with my sister, and then, I expect to be left alone for the rest of my honeymoon, got it?”

“What did you tell Wallace about coming on the campaign?”

“Nothing. I’ll get back to him when Clarke and I make a decision,” he muttered, grabbing his bag and brushing past him out the door.

“Wait, Bellamy!” Raven shouted, but he just waved her off.

“Nope, I’m leaving.”

“Use protection! You’re not scheduled to knock her up until next year at the earliest,” Murphy called out, and Bellamy whipped around to glare at Kane.

“Tell me you didn’t put when we can have a baby on the schedule,” Bellamy huffed.

“It’s just a suggestion,” Kane replied.

“God, Roan’s right. Fuck Washington,” Bellamy muttered to himself as he strode out of the office.

 

* * *

 

When he got to the apartment, his sister was sitting upright on the couch, watching the news of all things. There was a lot of heat on Roan for how he voted, but most of the focus was on Senator Cooper’s silly act of defiance.

“Since when do you watch this garbage?” he snorted.

“Since my big brother started starring in this garbage,” she teased. “So, this new Supreme Court person, you voted for her, right?”

Bellamy plopped down on the couch next to her, letting out a sigh. “Yeah. She’s the only decent judge to be put up for nomination, so I came back to help get her confirmed.” He gave Octavia a once over. She was still in her sleep shorts, hair thrown up into a messy bun. Judging by the sheer amount of empty chip bags littering the coffee table, he’d guess that Octavia has spent most of her time just like this on the couch. “O, what are you still doing here?”

“Well, it’s not like I could head home after our fight without talking to you first.” Not that it ever stopped her before.

“You mean when you tried to slap me?”

“I wasn’t thinking. It’s not like I actually wanted—”

“You did, O,” he interrupted, and she pressed her lips together. “You wanted to hit me.”

“I was upset,” she muttered, looking down at her hands.

“I must have really fucked up raising you if you think that’s a justification for wanting to hurt me.” Her mouth opened to start speaking, her eyes wide in confusion because he was calling her out for once. “So, you aren’t here because we had a fight. Why are you really here?”

Her mouth snapped shut and her jaw clenched. He leaned back into the couch, staring at her until she finally worked up the nerve to speak. “I didn’t want to go back. Things have gotten a little insane back home.” Her eyes flickered up to his for a brief moment before she looked back down at her hands. “I mean, you already know I’m pregnant.”

“Wanna tell me who the father is?”

“This guy. Ilian. He’s not my… I barely know him, honestly. Just kinda got tired being all alone after Lincoln, and he’s nice, I guess. I don’t know,” she mumbled, and Bellamy’s eyes softened. His sister never did well when she felt alone. She’d hyperventilate when their mom left for the night shift, only calming down when Bellamy would read her stories until she fell asleep.

“Does he know?”

“No, and I don’t want him to. He’s the kind of guy that might get excited about it. You know, the kind who would buy a baby book the second he found out and read it all in one night.” Bellamy kept his mouth shut, watching as she fidgeted with the hem of her shorts. “Probably would want to move in with me and make it a real relationship for the baby’s sake, and I don’t want to have to tell him that I’m not the kind of girl he wants to have a baby with. I’d be the worst mother.” She wasn’t even fishing for him to lie and say she’d make a great mother… Octavia really believed it.

“So, you’ve been staying here while you figure out what to do.”

“No, I know what I should do, but I just…”

“What?”

“Honestly?” she whispered, looking up at him to reveal the tears forming in her eyes. “When I saw the pregnancy test results, it was like my first day of kindergarten all over again. I was a scared, sobbing mess and all I wanted was my big brother.” That day was burned into his brain. The school had to pull him out of class to calm her down in the nurse’s office.

“O—”

“I know, I know. But it’s just… I don’t have friends, Bell. All I have is Ilian, and I’m too scared to talk to him about it. And you know me, you know I’m making the right decision, right?”

“I think…” Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, and he swallowed. “You are the only person who knows what the right decision is, O.” Her face fell and he reached over to grab her hands. “Okay?”

“Okay.” When he started to let go, she held on tighter. “I know I haven’t been easy to deal with.” Bellamy let out a sigh but didn’t interrupt. This was the start to her typical apology speech. His head knew this was part of a pattern, that she’d be screaming that he ruined her life the second life got tough. But his heart wanted to believe her sincerity, especially when she looks like her old self, the girl that was full of love instead of anger. And she believed every word she said wholeheartedly. It’s not hard for her to feel remorse in the moments where she’s scared. But deep down, they both knew that she would flip back to her old ways eventually.

Bellamy could never figure out what to do about Octavia… because there wasn’t anything he could do. And knowing that hurts the worst. Here was his little sister, so obviously scared and needing him, and he knew that for his own sake, he shouldn’t let her in. But he wanted to… because there was this loud, pleading voice in his head asking if somehow this time could be different.

“You know I love you, right?” she whispered.

“I know.” He wanted to say it back, but admitting it felt like an absolution, so he didn’t. “What happens now? Are you going back home?”

“I don’t have a home to go back to. I don’t know. I just… I thought I’d stay here until you guys came back and figure something else out after.” Before he could follow up with a question, someone knocked on the door. With a groan, he pushed off the couch and headed toward it. As soon as the door was opened, Raven Reyes barged right in with a murderous look on her face.

“I know you want to get back to Clarke or whatever, but we need to talk right now,” she snapped.

“Uh, I’ll just… go in the other room,” Octavia stuttered out, her eyes flickering nervously between them.

Bellamy gestured for Raven to come sit on the count, but she just started pacing in the entryway. As soon as Octavia’s door shut, she said, “What did you do to Carl Emerson?”

“Excuse me?” Bellamy wanted to never hear that name again.

“Oh, come on. It had to be you. Or was it Clarke?”

“Reyes, what are you talking about?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she huffed, taking a step toward him to poke him in the chest. “You ask me to find this guy I’ve never heard of and the next week he turns up dead.”

Bellamy stumbled backward, bracing his hand on the wall. No, this couldn’t be happening. “How did he…”

“Hit and run. So, which one of you did it? It can’t be a coincidence that he turned up dead.”

“Why would either of us do that?”

“Because he killed Wells, right?” He was about to ask how she figured that out, but he knew her answer would be that she’s a genius. Bellamy shouldn’t have enlisted her help to begin with. These were questions he and Clarke desperately wanted to never be asked. He could feel his throat grow dry and body grow shaky. Clarke needed to fly back home so they could deal with this. “I am not covering up for a murderer!”

Bellamy shushed her as he nudged Raven away from Octavia’s room. “I’m not a murderer,” he whispered. “I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t.”

“No, you’re gonna tell me what you know,” she growled. “Right fucking now or I take everything I’ve found to the police.”

His hands were shaking as he pushed his hair back. This was bad. This was very bad. The more people who knew, the more danger he and Clarke were in.

… but if anyone were to figure out a way to get out of this unscathed, it was Raven.

So, Bellamy took a deep breath, rested his back against the wall, and said, “It goes all the way back to Jake Griffin’s primary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bold of bellamy to ever assume that raven doesn't know everything


	21. Blackmail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. It's been three months since I updated. Sorry about that. But I promised I'd come back, and here I am.

“So wait… if you two didn’t kill Emerson, then who did?” Raven asked. Bellamy was amazed by how well she had taken in all this information so far, especially given that both he and Clarke were on the floor once they had the info she now has.

“Not sure, but when in doubt, Richard seems to be the right suspect,” he muttered, glancing down at his phone. He got another text from Clarke saying she was boarding the plane but still no text back from Kane. “Why the fuck isn’t he answering his texts? He would yell at me if I so much as left him unanswered for five minutes.” With a huff, Bellamy called him.

“Try working for him. It’s worse,” Raven teased as she pulled out her laptop.

His phone rang four times before Kane picked up. “Yeah?” he huffed into the phone, sounding out of breath.

“Get over to the apartment right now. Raven knows.”

“Raven knows what?” A quiet rustling came through on his end.

“Marcus, who is it?” he heard a woman say off in the distance… her voice oddly familiar.

“Nobody,” he muttered, and it finally clicked where Bellamy knew that voice from.

“You’re with Abby?” Bellamy snapped, and Raven’s head jerked up.

“What?” Raven chuckled, and Bellamy shot her a dirty look.

“Look, it’s not what you—”

“Kane,” Bellamy groaned. “Just get over here. It’s an emergency.” He hung up before he heard anything else he wasn’t supposed to. “How long as he been sleeping with Abby Griffin?”

“Hell, if I know. I thought they hated each other.” Bellamy let his eyes fall shut as he rested his head against the table. He was pretty sure today took five years off his life. At the rate it was going, it would be ten before Clarke was back in the mainland.

The creak of the bathroom door jerked him upright. Fuck, he forgot about Octavia. He rushed to his feet and caught up to her before she slipped back into the guest room. “Hey, O, would it be okay if we put you up in a hotel for a few days? Things are crazy with work and—”

He cut himself off when he saw the worried look in her eyes. “I can’t stay?”

“It’s not… something came up. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s a sensitive national security issue,” he lied as calmly as he can. She furrowed her brows in confusion, but she didn’t start outright fighting with him… which was progress. “As soon as it’s dealt with, you can come back, I promise.”

“Is everything okay?” Concern was in her eyes, and he hated how touched he was that she cared… but he was.

“Of course. Just a little stressful,” he lied.

“Okay, I’ll go pack up,” she sighed before ducking into the guest room.

 

* * *

 

Kane arrived at the apartment while Bellamy was driving Octavia to her hotel, so by the time Bellamy got back, the two of them were screaming at each other.

“Open communication, you said. No secrets. When were you going to tell us about this?” Raven yelled.

“Never. This wasn’t any of your business!” Kane growled, and Bellamy slammed the door shut behind him to get their attention. It didn’t work.

“It’s not my business? I am working for someone who married into this family. If this blows up, not only will my career be over, but I could be implicated in whatever the fuck is going on! So could Murphy and Monty!”

“I was trying to give you plausible deniability.”

“Great, so not only was I a staffer for a senator who married into this conspiracy, but an incompetent one who had no idea about any of it!”

“Stop!” Bellamy yelled, and the two of them snapped their heads in his direction. “Raven, Kane left Washington because of what happened to Jake and Wells. Him coming back here and hiring you was part of a new start. That’s why he didn’t tell you.”

“That doesn’t—”

“And Kane,” he interrupted. “You fucked all of us by keeping this a secret. I know you had to. I really understand that now.” He shuddered just thinking about Richard’s veiled threat at the wedding. “But this isn’t the kind of thing you can be blindsided with. Now, can we calm down?”

“Yes,” Kane sighed at the same time Raven snapped, “No.”

Bellamy cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to continue. “Murphy and Monty should know.”

“No,” Bellamy and Kane said at the same time.

“I already told them about Emerson,” she pointed out, and Bellamy cursed under his breath. Knowing them, they were probably digging into it just like Raven did. “They’re gonna figure it out eventually, so you might as well tell them.”

Bellamy fell onto the couch, ordering Kane to get them over here. He let his eyes fall shut as he tried to take a deep breath, but it was too shaky. He needed Clarke here, but that was still hours away. Everything was falling apart too quickly. Kane and Raven were at each other’s throats. Murphy and Monty were about to be let in on one nightmare of a secret. And with each person who found out, he felt one step closer to having Richard be onto them.

When Monty and Murphy arrived, Kane did all the talking. Bellamy barely listened. He was too busy counting all the ways he screwed up. He could hear Monty and Murphy yelling at Kane in anger for keeping the secret, but his brain just stopped. Bellamy couldn’t figure out how to step in or calm anyone down… he couldn’t even figure out how to keep himself calm. All his people were at risk now. And if any of them made a misstep, he had no doubt all of them would pay the price. If Richard had no qualms about killing Jake and Wells to keep these secrets, none of them would ever be safe.

They worked through the night organizing what they knew. Everyone was on their fourth or fifth cup of coffee by the time the car dropped Clarke off at the apartment.

“They all know?” Clarke asked, leaving her suitcase at the door as she stared at the team gathered around their kitchen table.

“I asked Raven to look into Carl Emerson before I told you what Diyoza said,” Bellamy explained, and Clarke bit down on her lip. “Raven’s been suspicious of us for a while. And Carl Emerson turned up dead.”

Her blue eyes flashed up to him in a panic. “He’s covering his tracks,” she whispered, and he nodded.

After a beat, she headed into the kitchen and pulled a bottle out of the chiller. Bellamy didn’t say a word, just stood in the doorway and watched as Clarke shakily poured herself a glass. She was panicked, and it took a lot for Clarke to get panicked.

“I haven’t found it yet,” he heard Raven huff from the other room. Clarke chugged the entire glass.

“Then, maybe it wasn’t him. Normally, you’re able to find—”

“Who else could it possibly be?” she cut Murphy off. Clarke started pouring her second glass.

“Did you tell them Emerson was invited to my wedding to Wells?” Clarke whispered, not looking up from her glass as she spoke.

With a sigh, Bellamy pushed off the doorway and walked back to the others. “I forgot to tell you that Emerson was on the guest list for Clarke’s wedding to Wells. We don’t know who made them put him on the list, but it was probably Richard,” he said, and Raven slammed her head into the back of her chair once before she began typing.

He kept waiting for Clarke to come back to join the others, but she never did. After a few minutes, Bellamy slipped back into the kitchen. Clarke’s forehead was pressed into the refrigerator, her glass empty and discarded by the sink.

“Baby,” he whispered as he stepped toward her.

“We’re fucked, Bellamy.”

“We’ll figure this out,” he promised. Bellamy stood behind her and pulled her back so she was pressed against him. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, and slowly, she relaxed into him. “We’ve got our best minds on this now. We’ll figure out how to get out of it.”

“Bell, I love you, but you have to know there is no getting out of it now,” she whispered. She tilted her head up to face him, her eyes soft yet grave. “That’s what I was trying to tell you when I wanted to call off the wedding. Your last escape route closed when you married me.”

Swallowing, he turned her around to face him. “Hey, talk to me,” he said, cupping her cheek with his hand.

“What are our options, Bell? If he’s really taking out anyone who knew about Wells or my dad, then our hands are tied. We either keep our mouths shut for the rest of our lives, or we do something… and odds are, we won’t be any different than my dad or Wells or Emerson,” she whispered, shaking her head as the tears began to form in her eyes.

Before he could say anything to console her, there was a loud pounding at the door. He cursed under his breath as he let go of Clarke.

Through the peep hole, Richard Walters stood alone. He turned back to Clarke and mouthed who it was, and Clarke sprinted to the kitchen table and whispered orders for everyone to go hide in the bedroom.

“Just a second,” Clarke called out as she shoved papers into her arms. Bellamy herded the team out, threatening Murphy not to make a sound. He made a quick sweep of the room, waited for Clarke to step back out again, and the two of them slowly approached the door.

“You could have called,” Clarke snapped as Richard stepped into their apartment. His eyes flitted about the place, scanning the décor.

“You wouldn’t have answered,” he muttered. The man didn’t even acknowledge Bellamy as he walked around. “So, care to explain to me why you two are not campaigning with Thelonious?”

“I’m a Democrat, for starters,” Bellamy said, but Richard ignored him and kept his eyes on Clarke.

“We’ve taken a lot of time off for our wedding and honeymoon, and we just don’t have the time to campaign when we’re already both so behind at work. Besides, it’d be better for Bellamy’s career if we stay neutral this campaign cycle,” Clarke said, snapping out of her funk from earlier and plastering on the face she puts on for the cameras.

“And why are the both of you back so soon?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“My sister,” Bellamy said quickly, and Clarke let out a relieved breath. “She’s still in town, and I only just found out.”

Finally, Richard glanced over at Bellamy and gave him a once over. Then, his gaze shifted back to Clarke. “Let me be clear. You’re both going to assist Thelonious. He needs the boost.”

“I don’t give a fuck what he needs,” Clarke muttered. Richard just shook his head as he unzipped his bag and pulled out a folder. “Are you about to blackmail me?”

“Only because you said his sister is off limits,” he replied, shoving the folder in her direction. He wasn’t directly threatening Octavia, but the threat was still there regardless. If this threat didn’t work, he’d come after Octavia next.

Clarke took a peek inside before slamming it shut. For a second, she wavered, but then, her jaw clicked and she looked back up at him. “Do it. It’ll hurt you more than it’ll hurt us.”

“Really? So, you’re ready for the news media to ask if your quick courtship to Senator Blake was just to cover up the fact that you’re a lesbian?”

“Bisexual,” Clarke corrected. Her eyes met Bellamy’s, and with a sigh, she handed him the folder.

“You know as well as I do that the media will rip you both to shreds if this got out, and all I’m asking is that you attend two little campaign rallies.”

Inside, there were photos of a younger Clarke, maybe two or three years ago, and a slender woman with long, brown hair. The other woman looked familiar, but he couldn’t place where he knew her from. He flipped it shut before any indecent photos emerged and handed it back to Clarke.

“Listen, I don’t enjoy playing these games with you, Clarke. But you give me little choice. I made it perfectly clear that if you decided to come back to Washington, I expect you to play ball. It’s two little campaign rallies. But if you want to make this hard on yourself, fine. At least this way I can take care of my little Illinois governor’s race problem too.”

“Wait,” Bellamy muttered, grabbing the folder back from Clarke and flipping it open. No wonder the other woman looked familiar. “Lexa. You were with Governor Woods?”

Clarke averted her eyes.

“And she was married at the time too,” Richard added in.

“They were separated,” Clarke mumbled. When Clarke mentioned the one woman she had been with, there was no reference to her being a damn politician… a high profile one at that. Nor did she mention it was an actual affair.

Bellamy opened his mouth to say something, but Clarke locked eyes with him before looking back toward their bedroom where his team was hiding behind the door. Shit. Another secret they stumbled onto.

“See? We could have avoided this little drama if you would just do what I ask,” Richard snapped. “So, will you two be campaigning for Thelonious?”

“Yes,” Bellamy said, and Clarke shot him a murderous glare.

“Excellent.” Richard ripped the folder from Bellamy’s hands and headed toward the front door.

Clarke hadn’t moved, her gaze still as piercing even as the door shut. “What was that?” she hissed.

“We can suffer through two rallies,” he groaned. “And if he thinks we’re cooperating, he’s less likely to suspect that we’re onto him.

Their bedroom door burst open, and Kane darted out into the living room. “I asked you point blank if you had any skeletons in your closet before we signed the contract,” he snapped. “This is the kind of thing that could tank Bellamy’s career.”

“Glad our priorities are in order,” Monty muttered as the rest of them trickled out.

“It’s not coming out! His reputation wouldn’t survive having a queer granddaughter,” Clarke spat.

“Still, this is the kind of thing I need to be prepared for. What if you mentioned it to Bellamy while Diyoza had his office bugged? What would we have done then? We agreed to open communication.”

Bellamy stepped between them, pushing Kane backwards by the shoulders. “Okay, let’s just—"

“Were you practicing open communication when you kept the fact that my grandfather had my dad assassinated from me?” Clarke asked, and it was as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Even Raven looked up from her laptop to gape at them.

“Clarke,” Bellamy whispered.

“The Lexa thing will never come out. So, get off my ass. We have bigger priorities,” Clarke kept going, jaw tense as she spoke. “Any other secrets or lies I should be aware of?”

Kane’s eyes drifted to the ground and he whispered, “No.”

“Yes,” Bellamy corrected, and Clarke cocked her head to the side impatiently.

“No, there’s not,” Kane insisted.

“He’s sleeping with your mother,” Bellamy told her.

Clarke’s eyes widened in Kane’s direction. He expected some snarky remark, or Clarke calling him hypocritical for bringing up her affair. But all she whispered was, “Again?”

Kane and Clarke’s eyes locked. Something exchanged between them without words, something Bellamy couldn’t make sense of. After a beat, Clarke broke away and headed toward their bedroom.

“Find that connection to Emerson,” Bellamy said to Raven before following after Clarke.

Inside their bedroom, Clarke had fallen face first onto the bed and was groaning into her pillow. Bellamy locked the door behind him. “Baby,” he whispered, and Clarke just groaned louder before jerking herself upright.

“I can’t go to those rallies,” she snapped.

“We don’t have a choice.”

“We could have called his bluff.”

“If he was bluffing on Lexa, then he wouldn’t have hesitated to blackmail us with all the shit my sister has gotten herself into,” Bellamy pointed out. For the first time this entire night, Clarke’s eyes softened. “It was the only choice.”

Clarke let out a shaky breath before pulling the pillow back up to her face and screaming into it. “I can’t do it.”

“Two rallies. That’s it. And it’ll be over.”

“It’ll never be over,” she murmured.

Bellamy pulled the pillow from her grasp and tossed it aside. He crouched down in front of Clarke, his hands resting on her thighs. “It will one day,” he promised. “It’s not always going to be like this.”

“It’s always been like this. And Thelonious knows that we know about my dad. I wasn’t exactly subtle at the wedding,” Clarke muttered, shaking her head. “I’m not sure I can stop myself from letting anything else slip. I swore I wouldn’t say anything, but then, he mentioned my dad, and I was just so angry I…” Her head fell, and Bellamy pressed a kiss to the top of it.

“I won’t leave you alone with him, okay? It’ll be fine. We’ll talk politics and give fake smiles and speeches. It’ll be just like every other day in Washington. We can fake it for two rallies, and then come home and figure out how to take Richard down for this.”

“Just two.”

“Just two,” he repeated. Her forehead pressed against his and her eyes fell shut. They sat like that for a few minutes, neither of them saying a word.

An argument from the kitchen filtered into their room, and with a groan, Bellamy pushed himself up to his feet. He held his hand out for Clarke, pulling her up too. She gave him a brief kiss before they both walked out the door.

“Do you think I haven’t thought of that yet?” Raven hissed.

“I’m just trying to be helpful,” Murphy muttered, tossing a ball of rubber bands up into the air before catching it. “What about in his email?”

“Nothing,” she groaned.

“What’s happening?” Bellamy asked.

“Raven’s saying there is absolutely no connection between Emerson and Walters,” Monty explained.

“There has to be.”

“Well, then you figure out what it is,” she huffed. “I’ve been at this for hours, and I should have found something by now. Maybe we should entertain the theory that Richard didn’t kill Wells.”

“Who else has motive?” Bellamy asked. “Richard knew Wells was going to expose him.”

“Did he?” Kane said.

“He knows everything,” Bellamy groaned.

“Actually, Marcus is right,” Clarke said, tapping her fingers on the table. “We don’t know if my grandfather knew. All we know is what was on the recordings. And Wells is smart. He’d be careful.”

“Well, Jake was smart too and look what happened to him,” Murphy muttered, and Bellamy smacked the back of his head. “Sorry,” he mouthed in Clarke’s direction, but she ignored him.

“No, I see where you’re going,” Monty said to Clarke. “After all, if Richard thought Wells had damning enough evidence to kill for, he wouldn’t have let it all sit in Wells’ house where Clarke could go find it. He doesn’t know it’s there, meaning he doesn’t know.”

Bellamy’s eyes flickered over to Clarke, whose eyes were wide and lips were parted. Why hadn’t they thought of that? If Richard was killing to protect a secret, he would have done a thorough job making sure it died with Wells. But it was all right there in his closet where Clarke could find it.

“Why else would someone kills Wells Jaha?” Raven asked.

It was a matter of figuring out who had the most to gain from his death. No one from the Griffin family gained a thing. After Jake died, Wells was their last attempt to marry into the White House. Thelonious got a presidency out of his son’s death. He was so far down in the polls at that point, it was embarrassing. Then, his son died, and the American people weren’t about to vote against a man who just lost his son. Bellamy would never suspect in a million years that Thelonious would harm his own son, of course. Not for an election.

“Wait,” Bellamy whispered. “Wells’ death is why Thelonious won the election.” Clarke’s head snapped in his direction. “There wasn’t a chance in hell he would win, but the accident is what pushed him over. What if it was a last ditch effort at taking back the presidency?”

Clarke braced her hands on the table and said, “We’re asking the wrong question. We shouldn’t ask who had motive to kill Wells. We should be asking who wanted Thelonious in the White House bad enough to kill for it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. On tumblr and twitter as @asroarke, so hit me up if you like. Thank you! Hope you liked the chapter!


End file.
